Moanday, Moanday

My friend Buddy calls Monday “Moanday.”

I think there’s a bit of truth to that.

Because I’d never pick Monday as my favorite day of the week. I’ve previously asserted that people who do are in need of psychological care.

Obviously, I’m not a huge fan of Mondays. Getting up is always hard. Deciding what to wear is always more difficult. Making yourself run is WAY more difficult.

But today, dear ones, wasn’t all that bad. I had scrambled eggs (with homemade pico) and sausage/cheese puff for breakfast. I had a nice quiet time. My dog sat on my lap for a bit. I ran/walked 2 miles and didn’t hate every minute of it. (And most of all, I did it!) I got ready for work. I decided to wear the bright green pants that I love. I have hot coffee in a travel mug, homemade enchiladas for lunch, and remembered to bring my water bottle back. I had a minor breakdown and reverted to my usual Monday attitude when a woman in the lane next to me was stupid in traffic, but I’m trying to work past that.

I can even laugh at the fact that I sprayed myself with perfume IN THE FACE on my way out of my bedroom.

Apparently, I don’t know the difference between my neck and my face.

Oh, well.

I survived to tell the tale. Happy Monday, all!

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