Monday sucks.

Monday morno rolls around every week like clockwork, and I wake up and greet it with the best of attitudes. I lie in bed and count my blessings, give a big stretch, rise and shine, and look forward to starting the new day and the new week. Merry Monday! Big smile. I do this every day of the week but especially on Mondays because I want to start the week off right, you know?

It doesn’t work. Monday turns on me like a terrorist chihuahua.

Take this Monday, for example.

I woke up to the smell of dog diarrhea. If you want to make a million dollars, invent an alarm clock that mimics the sound of a dog throwing up or emits the smell of dog poop. Guarantee it as fail proof.

The top shelf of my living room bookcase popped loose from its wall stud sometime during the night and sent picture frames crashing to their demise on my tile floor. Fortunately, I am a practicing minimalist these days, so all we lost were a couple of glass picture frames.

I stepped on a piece of picture frame glass and sliced my foot. Not a bad cut, but enough to cause me to leave a bloody path as I hopped to the back door to complete the necessary poop bag disposal and then over to the bathroom medicine cabinet for a bandage. No bandage. Box only.

By the time I had secured a piece of folded toilet paper over the wound, our house looked like a burglar and broken in and shot someone. I considered going out for coffee, not leaving a note and letting my teen wake up to the broken shelf, shards of glass, bloody, smelly mess as revenge for not telling me we were out of bandages. But my pack was restless and in need of backyard relief and breakfast, so I limped on.

A dog knocked a dog food bowl out of my hand, humidifier water spilled, and I was overwhelmed by the usual Monday morning piles of weekend laundry. Brutal.

My Facebook newsfeed assaulted me with “Be Happy and Share” on a poster. I am not sharing. So there. But I do like Facebook sharer, blogger Beth Ann very much.  It’s not her fault. It’s Monday’s fault.

Monday, it’s over between us. I’ve been trying to make our relationship work since before I started first grade. I’ve expressed gratitude for you, made excuses for you, defended you and blamed the rain—never you.* But you have disappointed me one time too many. I’m done. No more Merry Monday. I’ve finally come to realize we cannot have a fulfilling relationship. It’s YOU—not me!

Tuesday, I hope you’re paying attention.

Do you have a day of the week that hates you? Or a favorite day of the week that loves you?

Odd Loves Company,

* if you don’t get this reference think about it….