Tomorrow the work week begins. It will be Monday, bloody Monday. I will drive my Jeep onto I-95, the beltway, where one is not safe unless fueled by caffeine or an upper of some sort, to navigate a sleepy mind thru the mad vehicular rush of the morning. Once at my office building, the guards at the front gate check my badge and wave me thru to the parking garage. The only thing good about it being a Monday morning, is that a few spaces will still be vacant around 9am.
Walking into headquarters, the guards at the front door will check my badge and allow me into the almighty building. At the elevator, I’ll swipe my badge again to ride up to the 6th floor. I sit in the blue section. My cube mates will already be at their duty station, since they are “morning people,” which apparently says a lot more for an office worker.
And then: logging into my computer. Password, enter, login, password, enter. And I’m in. Time to check my “work” email, which is far less exciting than my Hotmail inbox. Predictably, my boss has sent 4-5 emails, all which sound urgent and on the verge of emergency. He is meticulous and detail-oriented. Translation: anal and OCD. But that is what statisticians get paid for right?
I am not a statistician = I am in hell.
The day goes by slowly. Living up to my boss’ expectations has gotten old. But there is no where else to go until I finish my massage therapy certification. That is why I study today, Sunday, a day which has all possibilities of being a nice day. Soon I will not have the Sunday Blues.
If you too get the Sunday Blues, leave a comment & tell me why.