At work this morning, I started my day—over coffee of course—in my inbox, going through yesterday’s emails, checking to make sure I’d addressed everything that needed addressing. There I am clicking, reading, clicking, deleting and I come across one in which I was apologizing to this guy for having forgotten to include the necessary attachments. If you can believe it, (brace yourselves people) I actually wrote to him: “Ooops. It’s been a manic Monday.”
Yes, I wrote that!
We all know the song. Susanna Hoffs. The Bangles. I’ve been singing the lyrics since my preteen years, long before I had any business characterizing any of my days as being manic, when my stresses amounted to a heavy backpack of books and having to run suicides at basketball practice. I think, probably like most kids, I was singing because I liked the sound, but in actuality had no idea what this manic life they sang of was really all about. These days, I get it. And yesterday, because Mondays are inherently rough and because I, for some reason was feeling extra flustered—felt like they had written the song for me.
Six o’clock already I was just in the middle of a dream…
At six o’clock I was indeed in the middle of a dream, though instead of kissing Valentino (yeah, yeah—by a crystal blue Italian stream), I was on an operating table getting surgery. Kissing Valentino would have been so much nicer. Kissing any handsome lad for that matter, I know. Surgery? Don’t ask! Nevertheless, I was still in my slumber dreaming, and the alarm that signaled the week’s beginning was the last thing I wanted to hear.
But I can’t be late ‘cause then I guess I just won’t get paid. These are the days when you wish your bed was already made
Right. Can’t be late. This is still a new job. Late = bad and I like getting paid. And yes, if only my bed could already be made. This would save me at least five minutes of precious prep time. Of course some might say forget the bed. Leave it and go. But no, not I. The thought alone makes me cringe.
Just another Manic Monday. And yes, I wished it were Sunday.
Have to catch an early train is the story of my life and yeah even if I had an air-o-plane, I still wouldn’t make it on time. Cause it takes me so long…. Uh huh, uh huh….to figure out what I’m gonna wear. Blame it on the train but the boss is already there! What on earth am I gonna wear? This is the ever-present thorn in my side. Standing in my closet staring at my choices, I feel like I’m in high school again after years in private school wishing that I could go back to wearing my uniform. If only I had one today. Is the MTA hiring?
And so we arrive at the end. I still sing the lyrics but in my mind we’ve come to a screeching halt. My lover, his bedroom voice, saying to me honey, “let’s go make some noise.” Oh oh oh oh. Oh wait. What? Somehow this part is way off.
Hopefully someday soon it won’t be and Mr. Lover, Valentino or whoever he is, can help me through my manic Mondays for as long as they come. ‘Cause here, I know…they’re not stopping any time soon.