Like all Americans, I hate Mondays. It’s the day of return to responsibility, obligations, chores, e-mails, phone calls, research, organizing, diplomacy, grunt work – on and on until the sun sets on yet another Friday. Since I’m self-employed, you’d think Mondays would be easier. They’re not.
My Mondays involve wracking my brain for the week’s content. It involves creating lists of all the things I forgot to do last week and need to do this week. It involves reaching out to people who probably don’t want to hear from me, and it involves scheduling time to do all the crap I really don’t want to do. Mondays mean reminding myself that I ought to be working on weekends in order to keep my daily responsibilities manageable. Then it means shooting myself in the foot with a stubborn, “F-that! I’m not working on weekends!” For me, hell will be where every day is a Monday.
What do Mondays mean to you?