I’m not normally the type of person to hate Mondays. For much of my working life so far, my work week has been variable and so Monday meant as little to me as Wednesday. However, now that I have a job with a weekend and a Monday start, I can kind of understand that sentiment. Even so, it was a day, and I can do what I need to.
Unless, of course, I catch a sinus cold over the weekend. Now the article I have to write is fighting me tooth and nail while the rain pounds outside. I write a sentence, maybe two, before having to take a break and do something else until I can wrangle the words into order again.
Ironically, this little piece is taking me much less effort to write.
Why, brain? Why do you hate me so?
Why must it be Monday?