Sunday, Funday. Blech. That’s a lie if I ever heard one. It doesn’t seem to matter how many days there are in a weekend — even a 4-day weekend like we just had — every Sunday there is still this mad dash to get my
shit life together in like 12 hours. I blame Monday.
It’s not my job, really, that annoys me so. I actually love what I do and the idea that I’m making a difference for those who have no voice. But here I am, in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, driven insane by the people I deal with on a daily basis, just wishing for a time jump like they do in the movies — you know, to move the plot along — so I can just get to the weekend already.
Guess the villa in Tuscany is still out for now. Oh well, at least the weekend is here…gotta look at the bright side of things!
Just in case ya’ll were like me, and needed a reminder. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news…
So. I can’t even blame this on midweek burnout. It’s Tuesday, people. TUESDAY.
It’s that time on Sunday when the realization that Monday is almost here rears its ugly head. How very disappointing that it continues to arrive week after week after week. You’d think we would’ve figured out a way to stop it by now.
Why yes, yes I am eating Twinkies ice-cream. Don’t roll your eyes at me. It’s not nearly as awful as you might think — it actually does taste like Twinkies. Which is good…if you like Twinkies.
Annnd in another few minutes, it’ll be Wednesday. Not as good as Friday, but definitely better than Monday.