Dear Monday ...............

Like some misplaced hang up from school as well my inability (even at this point in my life) to think of my old teachers as individuals with lives outside the school, I have also brought a dislike of Mondays with me into adult life.

Given that I often work all weekend it's a misplaced hatred as Monday is just another day of the week to me. When your days off keep changing sometimes the other days of the week blend together until you have to check your phone to see where you are or you'll find yourself in work on a Sunday going to call a stockist that is clearly closed because you forget that Sunday is still a day of rest for some people.

Long gone are the days when Sundays were the days of the big family dinner, a bath followed by watching Glenroe in your pyjamas as your hair dried by the fire and then ushered up to bed so you would be rested for school on a Monday morning. I'm glad that's part of time past but I still can't shake those Monday Blues.

Monday is never going to be my favourite day even if I shrug aside that childhood grudge against it. For starters I get paid on a Thursday which means by Monday I have had four whole days to spend my hard earned wages so Monday is a day I'm often pretty broke and counting down to my next pay day or trying to work out can I buy the food I've already run out of with the 10 euro I've left and secretly hoping nothing chooses to break on me before Thursday comes or at all, that would be better.

Monday is such an Ugh day in that I often wake and think Oh it's Monday and have to fight the urge to slip back under my duvet cover and hide till Monday is gone although I'm not sure how my Boss would take an allergy to Mondays as an excuse for not showing up. However valid I feel that might be. Especially heading into winter when it's darker and colder and wetter and you just think no, Monday should be cancelled.

In work, Monday is now the quietest day of the week as everyone and their cat seems to be a victim of the spending all their wages over the weekend epidemic which leaves them with little reason to be visiting a bookshop and Leaves poor Bookshop Laura with little to do. I'm sure there's something a little Ironic about spending my weekend complaining about the tiny tirants who storm the shop, knocking over books ; flinging alphabet letters about like confetti; pulling every puppet off the stand and then treating me to the auditory delights of a one child mouth organ concert. Then come Monday when my only company is the dust bunnies and I've no one but myself to clean up after I find myself whinging that It's so damn quiet that Monday stretches on forever. I'm sure the moral of the story is that I'm never happy.

There is one exception and that is when I get my long weekend once every five weeks and I get a Monday off as part of it. Now those Mondays I like, If only there could be more of them. They have the illicit feel of a day taken off school and in my opinion go far too fast. But for the most part, you don't need to tell me why I don't like Mondays 

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