Mondays.
I don’t know about you but I really have a thing about Mondays. ("Thing" not being something good in this instance.) I mean, on one hand, I embrace the whole, “It’s the start of a new week, a chance for a fresh start!” philosophy just fine.
(Okay, so it’s questionable about the “just fine” part. Honestly, my enthusiasm for Monday mostly depends on how late I was up on Sunday night and how much coffee I’ve consumed on Monday morning.)
On the other hand, when Monday dawns, I also want to groan, roll over and pull the covers over my head and sleep until, well, Tuesday sounds good.
I’ve been that way all of my life. I just can’t seem to bound out of bed with unbridled enthusiasm the first thing on Monday morning. (Shoot for a slow crawl out of bed to the coffeemaker and, yeah, that is probably doable.) Ask me to bound on a Tuesday? Sure. As me for unbridled enthusiasm immediately upon awakening on a Wednesday? Not a problem. On Mondays, you take your chances.
When I’m working on a book, I like to plan my writing agenda for the day over my morning coffee. Some days, my goals are straightforward: Write x number of pages today. Other days, my goals are murkier and open to interpretation: Finish the scene in the parking lot.
For some reason, on Mondays, my goals are always loftier than on any other day of the week. (I think it’s the whole “It’s the first day of a new week, a chance for a fresh start” thing that I referenced in the opening paragraph.) I think I should have "big" goals for Monday, so I usually set them. (Things like putting up a blog entry first thing on Monday morning, for example.)
So, as I was sipping my morning coffee this morning, I started to think about my goals for Monday. And then I got to wondering how other people handled Mondays.
And with that in mind, here’s my question for the day:
How do you deal with Mondays? Slow crawls to the coffeemaker? Boundless energy? Same as you deal with any other day? Please share.
Oh, and if you're heading to the coffeemaker, I'd really appreciate a refill.
7 comments:
Morning, milady! (Okay, I must be waking up and getting peppier since I'm using exclamation points. lol.)
I have my coffee in the morning and then I switch to green tea. (I'm thinking of penning a fictionalized memoir about my addiction. Oh, the horrors when I discover the supermarket is out of Solada green tea and I have to try another brand! LOL)
Having always written every day (with Sunday mornings off), Mondays aren't terribly different for me from any other. In fact, during the past 7-8 years since my sweetie took way early retirement and no longer leaves the house five days a week, when I'm deep in a book, I tend to get really confused about what day it actually is.
But, when he would go off to the office on Monday mornings, I used to feel like jumping for joy because it meant I could gleefully write all day without anyone asking me if I was ready -- yet -- to take a lunch break. LOL
Now, granted, this morning I'm more than a little foggy because I just finished a book for one publisher at five a.m. and here it is nine, and I've just enough time to read through my other editor's revision notes -- which I received last Friday afternoon -- and drink a gallon of coffee so I'll be reasonably coherent for her call to discuss them in the next hour or so. (Ever notice there's never an IV setup around when you need one? ) Oh, one lovely thing about a husband retiring: I always have my flavored, freshly ground Starbucks delivered directly to my desk all day long . :)
JoAnn,
I've had that happen to me, too - having become so engrossed in writing that I lost all track of time, days of the week, etc. It's kind of scary. I keep expecting to see M. Night SShyamalan appear in the doorway or something. lol.
Now, about your retired hubby and that fresh cup of Starbucks...I tried to train my cat to do that but it hasn't worked out so well. Have you considered renting him out? :)
For me, it starts on Sunday night. True to form I'll groan, "I can't believe tomorrow's Monday." Since I work at home I sometimes don't remember what day it is. I'll crack open an eye at around 6:30 AM and in those first few moments of waking I'll ask myself what day it is. Then I remember. Monday! A string of epithets usually follows. But after a shower, breakfast and walking the dog, I sit down at the computer, and guess what? Monday isn't so bad after all.
I've actually started liking Mondays since I started writing full-time and working at home. I almost never have anything planned on Mondays, so I can sleep in as long as I like (these days, it's weekends when I have to get up early). My editor usually has a meeting on Monday morning, so I don't have to worry about her calling me while I'm still in bed or sending me an urgent e-mail I need to respond to. Although I do work on Mondays, that's mostly at night, so Monday during the day is almost like my weekend.
Plus, it's fun while I'm lying in bed to imagine all those poor saps who are having to go to an office. :-)
As a writer with young kids, I dread Mondays because it seems to be a chore to get them up and ready for school. THEY are the ones who drag their feet. I'm up before 6 am every morning because the youngest Brennan wakes up before 6 am every morning.
Like JoAnn, I lose track of time--not the day (I need to know if it's a school day, is it gymnastics, or CCD, or a doctor's appointment) but since I write at night, there have been times when my husband has come into my "den" (it's the living room) and says rather incredulously, "It's after two in the morning, don't you think you should come to bed?"
The thing is, if I get interrupted and made to feel guilty (though why me not getting enough sleep should make me feel guilty, I don't know), I usually end up stopping within 15 minutes. It's almost as if the suggestion of bed makes me tired or something.
I'm in the "Monday as fresh start" camp. I like Monday mornings; the children go to school and I'm kind of free (if you don't count laundry, dishes, and errands) for about six hours.
It's Sunday evenings that I hate. I think it's left over from school days when I would put off doing my homework until late Sunday. No matter how busy or productive my weekend has been, I've never quite shaken the feeling that I've wasted my two days off when Sunday evening rolls around. I get this odd creeping depression until I go to bed. Isn't that weird?
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