Why is it that Mondays always feel like those dreams where you’re running in water? You know the ones, right? You’re waist deep in a river or ocean with a swift undercurrent, and the waves of unfolded laundry, dirty floors, and weekend debris rush towards you? Oh. Is that just me? *sigh*
Come Monday I feel like I have domestic amnesia and exert great effort relearning the daily routine. I grind gears trying to find my way back to the dishwasher. How does this work again? And, Are we out of dishsoap? How long has that been?
Not that my weekends are brimming with so much excitement that they induce these domestic hangovers. Don’t get me wrong, we have fun. On Friday we had a “Party Night” and watched “Zoom: the Academy for Super Heros” while eating popcorn with REAL butter (we spare no expense at the Belknap home). But that was the pinnacle of excitement over here. Oh, and on Sunday I took a nap. See? Not the type of mind-boggling revelry that would require a day or so of recoup. But still, I lag.
And it seems to be contagious. Come Monday my children are completely confused, as if they’ve woken up in the wrong house. They spend a couple hours wandering aimlessly and responding to my every request with a wide-eyed, “Why?” completely baffled that I’m expecting them to get dressed and do chores.
But then, that’s how I feel too, I guess. When I worked full-time I read somewhere that Mondays and Fridays are the most unproductive work days. Makes sense to me. You spend one-full day getting into gear and another day getting out of it.
And true to Monday form, I’m barely posting this on Tuesday. It lounged around on my computer all day yesterday and I just finally decided to finish it up. So here it is. All dressed up with nowhere to go. Or is it a day late and a dollar short? Either way it's my kinda Monday.