They have to be I think. Because Monday is a day to be small. While it is a day that looms large in our modern sensibility, it is best faced with small ambition and low expectation. If you do so, Mondays can be a highly accomplished days. If you don’t, there can be tears.
Something about not achieving all you wished for in your private life on the weekend in combination with having to face down all the things that need to accomplished in the upcoming week at your day job. I think that is what makes us feel small. Monday surely makes me feel small. And by that I don’t mean thinner or lighter. Less significant. Yes, that’s it. Trivial. I feel trivial. And by that I don’t mean funny.
All that being said. It is a great day for writing what one must as opposed to what one wants. All the drama and magic and passion and stardust that is seething just below my skin may not successfully come forth on a Monday. I may try, even cutting a bloody wound deep. But on this day above all others, it clots over quickly and I find myself checking on how many US stamps I have in the drawer and wondering if I should pluck my eyebrows. Then I get excited about editing the annual report or making tasty factoids out of dry scientific data – Monday’s make me feel useful above all other days, that’s for sure.
It is a good day to take out the recycling and to do an extra load of laundry. It is not a good day to pick a fight or bake a soufflé or declare undying love. Not on a Monday. Monday’s are not big enough for such endeavors.
Mondays can be a bit subversive though, if you let them. Mondays can be great days for dreaming crazy music and planning deeds of daring and delight. But Shhhh. We must not speak of them aloud. Not on a Monday. Tuesday we may plot. Wednesday we may plan. Thursday we assemble the team. Friday we storm the castle. Saturday we exercise our passions and Sunday we repent. It is ever thus and has ever been, world without end.
And now I must away to my Monday duties. Reading scripts, composing emails, flossing my teeth, loading up the laundry basket, playing a few scales and wondering. Wondering what the people I love are thinking and feeling this Monday night. A single friend in Ottawa, a cluster in the Netherlands, a sprinkle in Northern California and a brand new shiny star in the south. A big hug in Toronto and another up the Sunshine Coast. A constellation across the prairies, a treasure chest from the lower mainland and even one or two angels down Dixie way.
Lucky, lucky girl.
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