I love Mondays. Usually. I know that sounds crazy to all of you who have Evil Day Jobs, but Mondays, for me, are normally filled with bright shiny possibilities. Sure, I don’t have to travel farther than 25 feet to get to my office from the bed, but Mondays still count.
This Monday is more like my usual Sunday—the day I clear up any messes, run errands and get ready to hunker down for the week to write. After today, everybody is back where they belong and my world returns to normal. I have two family members who went away this last week to opposite sides of the country, and I don’t like that one little bit! I need the people around me to keep to their routines so that my chaotic life and thought processes aren’t excited by their unpredictability.
Selfish, I know. But I never claimed to be perfect.
This morning, I have to head over to babysit for SIL so that he can take my new dog Fenris to the vet to get his junk removed. Then I race back home and try to get some pages under my belt before heading to the airport in the afternoon to pick up the red-headed hellion. I’ll be lucky to write a paragraph. I need isolation to get significant pages done, or a coffee shop where no one knows me.
I’ll celebrate Monday tomorrow.