Dear Monday,
I hate you. Here’s why:
You are made up of the most deplorable garbage and rubbish that this world has to offer. You sneak up on me after a relaxing weekend like a rabid possum hiding in the trash can at night. You wake me up at an ungodly hour. Seriously, I’m not even a Christian at 5:30am and yet you demand I meet you then and there. Merciless monster.
You are a reminder of everything I don’t like to think about: how much I need to get done this week, time is fleeting, I am mortal, the polar bears are losing their ice boats, the Loch Ness Monster is dead, John Lennon is dead, I have a hang nail, ECT.
Garfield hates you. That cynical cat taught me everything I know about life. Therefore, I hate you too. (Incidentally, I love lasagna.)
Traffic is always the worst when you come around. I run into more walls when you’re around. I’m always groggy and mad at the world when you’re hovering over me. I don’t have a case of the Mondays. I have a case of the “stupidest day ever”. It’s contagious.
Monday, you are terrible to me. But you know what?
You are the day that the LORD has made. I will rejoice and be glad in you. Because this is the day, this is the day that the LORD has made.
I rejoice today for his sake. Not for yours, Monday.
