get over it

When I got back to work on the 5th of January 2010 I made a decision.
I never knew how life changing it would be.
Well, in the very least, month changing.
We are only in march.
I will get back to you on how the rest of the year goes.

I decide that I was not going to let Monday get to me anymore. I was not going to argue, fight, spit or claw at Mondays face one minute longer. Who wants to start their week like that anyway? Not I. That is for sure.

I figured – Monday, as mean and rude as it is, is the one day in the week that I find generally goes pretty quickly. Before you know it, it’s over and you’re settling in for the evening and then, its Tuesday morning, Monday is nothing but a distant memory.

This has worked for me thus far. I find I have more issues with Wednesday these days. It’s my hump day. It’s when I start counting the days until Friday, who happens to be my favourite off all the Day clan. Hello Friday my old friend… it is so nice to see you again, is usually the tune I sing.

However, Monday is still mean to my partner. And on Mondays I don’t like him very much. My partner that is. Not Monday.

I dread Mondays now because I know that when I wake up on Monday morning I am going to have a moaning myrtle waking next to me. And he will huff, he will puff, he will bitch and moan – and I just ignore it. I know that when I get home I’m going to have a moody boyfriend. He will sit quietly on his chair, drinking an ice-cold cooldrink (he’s not much of a drinker, so I’m having a beer while he has a fanta or something) and he will stare out the door at the sky, or absently at the television, the odd grunt when the news is on an Julias Malema is the topic of conversation. I know that Monday’s presence will so severely affect his mood that I shant even anticipate that my arriving home will bring a smile to his face. I know this. It is my card in life and I’m ok with it.

To be honest with you and to kind of echo what I’ve already said, I just do not have the energy to let it get to me. Life is so short. The days going so quickly and I would much rather try my best to enjoy what there is than to wish it away.

Else, I could continue making an issue of it, I could wish the days away and then I’m going to wake up one day, 40 years old, fat and balding – and lying on the couch saying…

“what.. what… where am I? what just happened”