Nine to Five o Five

_{[1]<- What's This}

_{Watching: Mamma's and The Pappas, Monday Morning}

M O N D A Y
"
The nagging thought of Monday gnaws at your conscious. It grabs you by the ear and drags you into the bathroom. You enter the cold chamber groggy and disoriented. You click the switch on the wall and the light bulb (sun) nearly burns your eyes out. You cringe at the torturous self inflicted pain but after a few splashes of cool water from the sink you begin to feel a bit more adjusted. Monday begins to settle in. Itineraries and plans (including four day weekend, unfinished business) enter the scene and take their place within the room. Monday begins to set up shop.
"

Well, it's Monday. Time to go back to work. Time to get back to the daily grind and grind out whatever needs to be "grinded". Its not that I have any problems with my job but you know how it is. You just had a four day holiday weekend. You slept till 12 on three of those four days. You walked around in your boxers and old tee shirts for the most part and didn't go outside unless it was absolutely necessary. You became a heaping pile of unwashed sloth and you enjoyed every second of it. You have a stack of unanswered mail. You have a collection of unreturned phone calls. Responsibility got evicted but you didn't like him anyway. Life was good. But now its Monday.

The 5am alarm screeches in your right ear, nudging you violently in your ribcage (or was that you fiancé?). The room spins as you stumble out of bed and in the direction of annoying morning pest of an alarm clock. You flick the switch on his back and he is easily silenced. You then pull on the comfortable unwashed attire of the four day sloth fest instantly settling into their nostalgic grip the moment they rub your skin. You pause at the warm familiar feeling, almost being lured back into the deep pit of soft, satisfying, slumber. Your eyes close and your forehead goes numb. The fluffy pillows and soft sheets call to you. Your fiancés wriggling body seduces you into Medusa's pit. You are more than willing to be turned into a statue. It feels so good. BUT NO!

The nagging thought of Monday gnaws at your conscious. It grabs you by the ear and drags you into the bathroom. You enter the cold chamber groggy and disoriented. You click the switch on the wall and the light bulb (sun) nearly burns your eyes out. You cringe at the torturous self inflicted pain but after a few splashes of cool water from the sink you begin to feel a bit more adjusted. Monday begins to settle in. Itineraries and plans (including four day weekend, unfinished business) enter the scene and take their place within the room. Monday begins to set up shop. He starts to write a to do list as you bounce down the steps. He makes long lists of things he wants for you to do and people he thinks that you should call. You cell phone greets you as you enter the living room. He delivers the list of unanswered calls to you as dizzy flashing names on his face. You silence him just as easily as the clock with just a simple flick and then you walk over to the main attraction.

Its Monday. The thought, the idea, the feeling, the realization all dance behind your forehead. For some its a relief ; For others its a burden. The morning air will soon be filled with grunts and sighs as the rest of the world is dragged out the bed in a similar matter.

The computer blinked to life as the thought was now vividly realized in my mind. My fingertips danced the words reluctantly onto the keyboard as I began this post.