Mondays

Monday
Last Sunday I did not sleep due to me playing on the computer the single player mode of classic StarCraft, while the sequel was being downloaded. At six AM I turned the monitor off, as well as the sound system (which has a super-bright blue LED that can keep you from sleeping), I turned the TV on and switched to the news channel. I also moved and shook the bed sheets to make it look that I actually spent the night sleeping. Minutes later I went to my mother’s bedroom and when I got there I saw the unmistakable face that showed that its owner had a long day of work, studies and errands ahead. In an act of empathy I offered her a cup of coffee, to which she responded with another question, in which she manifested her curiosity about me being awake in the morning, in a week day, in what is supposed to be summer vacations for me. She proposed the hypothesis of me not having gone to bed, and I quickly denied it, stating that I had forgotten to turn on the AC before going to sleep and that I had woken up feeling hot minutes before that conversation. She accepted it and then answered my offer. Honestly, I was expecting her to come to my room and try to inductively reason a conclusion from the observations (computer off, hot temperature even though AC is on, bed is undone).
Anyway, this is not the reason for which I am blogging. Upon seeing her face I remembered that characteristic feeling of a Monday morning in winter. This feeling marks the end of a weekend and the start -or, more accurately, the continuity- of the routine. Wake up; snooze for 5 minutes and go back to sleep, which later transforms – by the addition of procrastination – into ten, fifteen, etc. The fake promise of not doing it again and the more probable one of setting the alarm earlier to be able to snooze the same amount of time without being late of work.
Start the day with some trotting to the bathroom, for the floor is made of pure ice. The act, for those of us who shower in the morning, is succeeded by the incomparable sensation of a warm shower during cold weather. The wish of not having to leave the shower and calling in sick comes to our minds. It tricks us and makes us think about crazy, creative and philosophical ideas that can only be created in the shower. If we remember our dream, we’ll probably try to reason it out. Contemplate the idea of quitting because a job that makes you to wake up (and suffer) a Monday morning is not a good job.
Since I was a child I’ve always wondered if the rest of the people live common experiences the same way as I do. I have also thought about the millions of possible ways they could have experienced it and the kind of people they are. One of them is a young woman, a New Yorker, who wakes up happy (even Mondays!), probably because the job aspect of her life, at least, is going well. I believe she works at a medium-sized company with the role of a creative employee, with the luck of creating and seeing some ideas grow (others? Not so much.)
There is another New Yorker, though. He’s the opposite, from the second chromosome to the job. He wakes up, showers and puts on his suit and overcoat. He realizes that he forgot to shave, and five minutes before leaving he goes to the bathroom, but when he looks at himself in the mirror he sees the enormous bags he’s got under the eyes. He asks himself if his younger self would approve the style of living he’s got. Without the time to “ponder about stupid things”, he quickly shaves and leaves. He takes the subway and arrives at his cubicle, where he would probably spend the rest of the day writing assessments and the like.
In my opinion, there is something special about Mondays. They have some kind of smell, which continues debilitating throughout the day.
In its defense, Mondays do not have the fault of our mood. Mondays are like that person who brings you back to reality, even though you may be in your best or worst moment. Mondays don’t have any other choice, because they know no other day would do it. Pfft, do you think somebody like Friday could do the job? Fridays are like that guy that thinks that because he’s worked a little he deserves spending the rest of the day having fun. Fridays are like that colleague of yours that tells you to put off work and do it next week. You want to do it, but deep inside you know long-term it’s for the worst. But you do it anyway.
Don’t get me started on Saturdays. That guy thinks life is all about partying.

I’m trying to write more. The thing is that I’m better at writing from scratch in Spanish than in English. My ideas flow better in Spanish, probably because I’m more accustomed to it. Anyway, what I did for this blog was write it on Spanish first (pen and paper :D) and then translate it.