I love Mondays. I also try to be honest. Kidding aside, other than the fact that Monday is the very day that spoils the weekend, my sentiment about this most hated day is just influenced mostly by the fact that everyone, if not all, feels the same thing. The hatred is that contagious. Even a cat shares the same disgust. Ask Garfield. But frankly I never had my own Monday that I truly despise forever.
Last Monday, however, seems to have made its stamp. It was like all Mondays ganged up on me so much so that the experience would like stay imprinted for a while in my brain. And in my nose. That day I summoned every positivity I had but that Monday almost overpowered all of it. Yet all is not lost. At least I realized that when push comes to shove and when hell breaks loose I could after all arise and face the challenge. However stinky I might be. (Take the hints.)
Seven days later, the cycle starts again. I still have few hours left at home before I could say that everything is all clear. That I won’t get stuck in one place face to face with the unknown and the unseen but one that can be definitely smelled. Well, I guess it won’t happen. I pray it won’t happen. Marcus has been eating enough fruits this week so it is highly unlikely that that sh*t would happen again. But then there’s work and that is another Monday story. Well, hopefully something that could make me say I love Mondays.
I call this the Garfield effect. It is the general hatred to one poor day of the week. It is the conspiracy to collectively pounce on one day of the week, one that can’t fight back, one that has not done anything wrong other than just being the first day after the weekends. If there’s one day of the week that bears the brunt of people’s negative emotions, it is Monday. As a matter of fact, it is safe to say that at one time, almost half of the world seems to chorus “I hate Mondays” as the countdown to the end of their Sunday starts. The other half follows next.
Yes it is understandable that anyone who is spending a well-deserved time off with friends or family would feel resentment over the thought that once again their two-day weekend will be cut short by Monday—the dreaded Monday. As for the employed, it is the start of another busy work week; for students, teachers, and mothers with pre-school kids, the first day of challenging school routines.
There is so much aversion to this M in MTWTF that it is not uncommon to hear people say “four more days!” even if the day has not yet started. This sentiment is so widespread that regardless of social status and positions in the company, I have heard people heave a weary sigh as Monday nears.
But is it really Monday that we hate? Or is it the things—or people—we look forward to deal with as we make our exodus to work or school, as our shift starts, or as the school bell rings? Can’t we for once be objective when we mimic Garfield’s famous one-liner, “I hate Mondays”? Can’t we for once declare on Twitter or Facebook a rational statement such as “I hate Mondays because of (him/her/it)”?