It seems to me, from reading a variety of Facebook status updates, that yesterday was a particularly bad Monday. For my family, it was no exception. I had a fairly decent day, but once the children descended upon the house, all hell broke loose. Every one of my children had excessive emotional issues; in other words, there were many unpleasant hissy conniption fits. Side note: did you know that "conniption" is a real word? It's an awesome word. My mom used to say that we were "ornery" if we were crabby, but that doesn't seem to fit the bill in this case. We had some genuine meltdowns, to the point of destruction of household property.
I got to thinking about the only song that comes to mind when I think of Monday: "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas. (You know, I think my parents still have an old vinyl record of the Mamas and the Papas somewhere.) What's confusing is that the first line of the song is "Monday, Monday, so good to me."
But then it goes on to confuse us all:
Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time
Perhaps the lyrics of this timeless song are too sublime for my comprehension.
Whatever the case, most people agree that Monday generally stinks. Why is this? Of course, we all love the weekend, but do we fool ourselves into thinking that Monday won't come this time? Do we begin to think that, maybe, through some inexplicable temporal alteration, we may have finally entered the eternal weekend?
Wouldn't it be awesome if we could have a Venusian calendar? A Venus day is 243 Earth days. So, a weekend would be 486 days, with Friday night adding roughly another 60 days, so the weekend would be 546 days. I could handle that.
However, the work week of 1215 days would truly stink.