Here’s the thing about Mondays:
Nothing looks overly optimistic on a Monday. Even with a fresh start or a new beginning. Even if the sun is shining.
Honestly, you can’t expect too much.
Some days you’re Holly Golightly. Some days you’re Cat. Some days, you’re both.
Every Monday I realize that one of the most twisted results of the fall was that one day men would have to survive not by fighting the thorns in the earth, but by locking himself as far away from the earth and sky and open air as he can for eight hours of every day just so he can afford to eat.
I know there’s a day coming when that won’t be necessary anymore. And that day will last forever.
But the meanwhile can be a Monday sometimes. And the weekend can seem forever away.