“Hey, how’s it going, Michelle?”
“Feels like a Monday.”
In other words, I sounded like a cross between Eeyore of Winnie the Pooh and Snuffleupagus on Sesame Street. Mondays. Woe is me.
I’m trying to turn it around, but after tossing and turning most of last night, I had dreams of my word count on the NaNoWriMo meter dropping precipitously towards zero. I started running through all the things that I would, by some miracle, have to accomplish in one day. It’s a heavy work day – much to do to catch up from last week’s Halloween-palooza and the family plague, of which I am now the last carrier. I have manuals to write and costs to estimate. And naturally, more words to write.
I have, somewhere in the landscape of my mind, imagined that Monday done right will make the rest of the week a glorious jaunt into productivity and vitality. This is from a current perspective that rides, in balance, on sleep deprivation and caffeine. That’s optimism for you. I’m going with it. Hope your Monday is glorious. If not, there’s always Tuesday.