TGI....M?

I may be the only person alive who is happy to see Monday come around again. Weekends for me are exhausting and I always welcome the peace of a quiet Monday morning. Mondays are all about possibility and new beginnings, starting fresh. It means sleeping in and watching People's Court. It means lying in bed and listening to the sounds of the world coming awake. It means a chance to walk around my neighborhood and appreciate how blue the sky is. It means playing with my dog in the backyard, laughing at her determination to murder a tennis ball. It means coming here, to this world, to see what's new with all of you. It means picking up the pen and getting to work.

I sat down to write this morning and all I could think was don't fight it. Don't fight it. The more you fight it, the harder it will be. I'm like a fish caught in a net, struggling to get back to the safety of familiar waters, gaping open-mouthed at the world and gasping for air. Don't fight it, don't fight it. This is advice I've given to others but I can't seem to follow it myself. It's like shadowboxing, dancing in the same cirles with yourself. You know what you're going to do before you do it but you can't stop it. I'm tired of fighting it. I'm ready to throw myself to the muses and let them do with me what they will.

On second thought, I have to agree with Garfield. I hate Mondays.