Lately I’ve taken to cursing Monday. Mostly because Monday feels like a hangover without the beer the night before. Sure, there was a time when I could drink through Monday, but that was back in college. That kind of extra effort was required in the syllabus. At my current incredibly advanced age (31), such attempts to recreate prior glories are foolhardy.

Mondays are better than Sundays, for the simple reason that on Sundays I’m hung over. But Monday’s are not better by much. What is Monday about anyway? To me it’s the wicked reminder that the weekend is over and you owe homage to The Man for the next five days or you’re going to lose that home that you can’t afford ( or barely afford depending on how good your credit is ).

Mondays lack the abandon of Saturday or excitement of Friday. Tuesday would be better, but it’s still awfully close to the black hole we’re stuck in right now. So that leaves Wednesday and Thursday to save the week. Wednesday has that cool nickname “hump day”. But it’s no fun for me because the wife works really late that night. This leaves Thursday. Well bring it on, say I! And leave the bottle of Advil open, just in case.