Funday
I’ve decided that Monday gets a bad rap. Yup. Monday, normally the first day of the work week, gets a lot of crap about being the worst day of the week. It’s the day most of us must pull on those big boy/girl drawers, gird up our souls, and go start adulting again for at least another forty hours. Nobody seems to show Monday much love. I’m guilty of it, too. The alarm clock rings (it’s had forty-eight hours off, too) and we “stumble to the kitchen and pour ourselves a cup of ambition, and yawn and stretch and try to come alive” as Dolly famously put it. Staring into the beautiful blackness of my French Silk coffee (no cream, no sugar-as God Himself intended it) I smell the Aroma of the Awakening. It’s a good smell. It takes at least two, and sometimes four of those cups, to put enough enthusiasm into my soul to get ready for the workday. Then it’s time to get dressed, do all the regular bathroom stuff (if you’re one of the lucky ones that has their biological necessities on a decent timer-I usually am) and prepare to leave. It always feels sad. Why is that?
When we were kids, we went to school. We enjoyed some of it, some of it we did not. Most of us did not enjoy having to get up on time, get ready and be off to the races, doing stuff. We’d much rather have stayed home and watched cartoons. Or daytime soap operas and game shows, in my childhood days. No cable channel with cartoons on tap for us. But, alas, it was not usually to be so. We went to the big building with all the teachers, some loved some not-so-much, went to class when the bells rang and waited for lunch and recess to liven up our day. After those two highlights, we went to more classes, and then waited for the final bell at the end of the day. Salvation! Home! Andy Griffith and Mayberry (if you lived in my area, in the seventies and early eighties, that’s what was on when I got home from school)! You got to go outside and play, or to your room and enjoy the solace of toys or comic books. Monday through Friday, we all fought the same battle.
The weekend was magical. Freedom from school, unless some ruthless teacher had assigned homework-that’d really drag the weekend down. Ah heck, you’ll do it Sunday night, right after Disney went off. Yes, freedom. To play. Watch TV. Read. Listen to music. Things that we love. We had no sense of time, unless your favorite show was coming on TV. We blew through time like it didn’t exist. That sensation always ended around dinner time on Sunday. There’d be baths (or showers) and a few shows on the tube, then off to bed early. Why? Tomorrow brought the dreaded Monday. The Beast That Destroys Free Time. The Soul Eater of The Weekdays. Ugh.
Must it be so? Even today? I say, nay. Nay, I say! I say Monday has just had bad advertising, unfortunate PR. It just needs to dress itself up a bit and open a fresh window of sunlight on what it brings to the table. See, there are all sorts of good things about it. If you’re unemployed, Monday probably has no meaning, or power, over you. Going to work means you’re gainfully employed. That’s definitely a good thing, I don’t care what anyone says. Don’t live your life waiting for things to be handed to you, work for them. You can’t do that without a Monday. It’s said that “if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life”. Well, go ahead and give it a shot. You may not have a job that you feel like you love, or even chose, but try it anyway. Find a way to love it. Find things to love about it. I’d rather be a happy janitor than a miserable businessman. Make the first day of the week a Fun Day.
Yes, I said Fun Day. Monday is now Funday. I’m going to start the ball rolling and push it out there. From now on, we start the week with hopeful anticipation and joy to see a new day! We just need to try to see the positive aspects of it, that’s all.
When my grandson, Cayde, gets dropped off at our house on Mondays, he comes rolling in like a boss. He checks to make sure his TV is on, and his Gigi has the remote. He gets his Sock Monkeys off the couch and onto the floor (where they belong) and gets his tickles and “boinks” from Gramps. Then, it’s bye-bye waves to Dad and Gramps and an attitude that says, “I’ve got a lot of playing, eating and sleeping to do, time for you guys to go!” so we get our forehead kisses and high fives, and we split for work. He’s got a schedule to keep. He loves his job. Why can’t we do the same with ours? I see absolutely no reason why we can’t. So, henceforth, Monday shall forever be Funday! Go forth and enjoy!
Shout out to Cayde Stone Bishop, the aforementioned grandson of yours truly. He turned a total of Two Years Old on the eighteenth of July (last Tuesday). He was a “preemie baby” and scared the mess out of everyone when he entered our life. He’s since become one of my favorite people on the planet. He spreads love, joy, and “uh-oh’s” everywhere he goes. He’s grown so much in just two years. He’s also taught me so much about loving life. He’s one special little boy, and I love him “to the moon and back”. Happy Birthday, Cayde (Lefty)! Gramps loves ya, Grandson!
Don’t forget: Funday from now on!
Rolling Stones 