Yesterday, at the end of the day, I looked down at my clock to see that it was 3:14 p.m. I sighed in disbelief. After what felt like an eternity, I had only been sitting at my desk for 7 hours. Sigh. Then, to add insult to my self-inflicted injury, I realized it was Monday. And I thought it was Wednesday. Believing it’s Wednesday when it’s actually Monday is one of the most disheartening things–something that can crush your spirit for the rest of the week. Why is it that I never have the opposite feeling, e.g. on a Friday, being pleasantly surprised that it’s not a Monday? Why oh why can’t I go to work one day and think, “Boy, Mondays sure suck. By golly gee, I can’t wait for Monday to be over,” and then have someone tell me at 5:00 p.m., “Hey! What are you doing this weekend? It’s Friday! Get the hell out of here!”
Ugh. Such is life.