....Monday will always be the day I start to sneeze from allergies or a cold or a hangover or something that, whatever it is, fills my head with mucous which, I'd swear, in addition, seeps in to clog brain passages.
....Monday at the job will always include at least 3 projects that go askew and, when finished askewing, will cause a (perhaps more well-rested?) passing colleague to stop and listen to my angry typing before suggesting I "look stressed out." To which I will reply by glaring at him over the top of my glasses.
....Monday means a slow 3-mile jog after work that will result in residual shin and knee and thigh and ankle soreness akin to a body that just ran a couple back-to-back laps to New York City. Folks, I am not old enough to have a body that feels this old after such a brief spell of exercise. I am stymied that the aches persist even during my training taper. Oy.
....Monday means at 11:28 p.m. I'm going to ride the Red Line home after 4 hours of playing piano at a rehearsal and wish that when I arrived home a strong pair of hands---perhaps attached to the arms of someone I enjoyed spending time with and was physically attracted to---would be waiting to attack the knots in my lower back and forearms and then tell me to put my feet in his lap for a rubdown and then, perhaps, put an arm over my shoulder and invite me to lean on the side of his chest and close my eyes and just listen to a relaxed heartbeat and, perhaps, relax myself, an iota or 2.
....Monday is always a day that, when it's tough, I'm not exactly sad to go through it alone, but wouldn't exactly mind having someone meet me at the end of it and tell me that Tuesday won't be exactly the same.
**thanks again to boston.com for the shout-out.
2 comments:
Have you ever considered the wonder of the neti pot? I was skeptical at first..gave it a try and it was quite the revelation.
I'm by no means a wacky holistic type either.It feels weird but really does the trick at washing away all the stuff that builds up in the nose and sinuses.
Dear Karin,
Indeed, I have at times found myself hoping for such a mythical beast; then, my 70 lb. bulldog snuggles up to me, and lays a good night lick on me before we both nod off. Thus does a Monday end. May you find your "bulldog".
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