I spent the night coughing on Mr C and covering the bed with snotty tissues. Who said romance was dead? He’s a lucky chap.
Despite my gritty determination, the weekend has been a bit of a flop because of this stupid head cold making me feel rubbish. I’ve moped a bit that we didn’t really get to do anything and I may have asked Mr C once or twice if you can actually die from a cold. I’m armed with Sudafed, paracetamol and Echinacea though, so here’s hoping team decongestant does its’ job ready for the week ahead.
Mondays are pretty much a day of mourning for the working population. By lunchtime the freedom of the weekend is but a distant memory, washed away in the busyness of your job. There’s that growing list of housework you can’t quite face once you’ve got home, sorted everyone else out and finally hit the sofa around 8pm (if you’re lucky). Even if you’re like me and love your job, Monday is a reminder that the midweek merry-go-round you’re strapped to is only going to get faster and faster for the next five days.
Mondays can be the pits. Acknowledging that, I figured I have two logical options:
- Embrace the Pollyana in me and spend this first day of the working week looking for what I can be glad about
- Have a right good moan.
I’m choosing the latter.
When you’re tired, rushed off your feet and heaven forbid, hormonal, a rant can sooth the soul better than a day at the spa. Ok, that’s a load of tripe, I’ll take the spa time anyday. Next best thing then.
So sometimes on a mondy I’m going to let it all out over what’s really got my goat. These aggravations won’t be the big life changing wrongs of the world. It won’t be a political soap box. No. It’s going to be the stuff that gets way further under your skin. Like eating nothing but lettuce leaves all week, caving once with a chocolate chip cookie and then putting on 3lbs. Like losing your cool and a man telling you to calm down. Like getting a stain or click in that new top that makes you feel thinner than you actually are – it’s probably not that noticeable but you feel like it’s lost some of its’ magical powers.
The warning will be in the title: if it reads Moaning Mondays then continue on at your own risk. There will be rants a plenty.