There’s something about a new week that brings on the wobbles. Sunday morning I’m fine. Floating along on a woolly weekend haze. Sunday afternoon – middling to fair. By evening I’m getting a little twitchy. I give myself a lecture, ‘it’s just another day. Now man up and go to bed’.(Being told to ‘man up’ isn’t the world’s greatest motivator. But the alternative is Panic and we’re not going there).
The alarm goes off and for a few moments I feel fine. But then I remember. Monday. It’s Monday. I’m engulfed by a wave of Shoulds and To-Dos and Bills and Issues That Need Resolved Right Now. The world has become a Dangerous and Threatening Place. And it’s Raining too.
C’mon Team Legs; two minutes to the bathroom. Groping for the towel, I’m fighting anxiety. I’ve perfected a helpful internal monologue that hisses ‘Don’t panicdon’tpanicdon’tpanic’. Which is a brilliantly effective way of inducing panic. Sure enough, I can’t get the lid off the toothpaste and ARRGHHIT’SALLTOOMUCH.
I’ve been mugged by Monday.
A helpless victim of the calendar and the weather. Destined to misery until the next Friday heatwave.
And you think you’ve got problems?