Monday, Monday

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how you could leave and not take me.

[Mamas and Papas... 1967]

Mondays are problem days for me. First, it is the only one of three golf days which require I wake up before dawn. It is, therefore, the only day of the week where I must do that. I did not retire in order to be up and about before... say... 9 AM. Even before retirement I worked the Midnight to 8Am shift in order to avoid having to wake up to an alarm clock.

I am not a morning person. Unless I am still up from the night before. No, wait... not even then.

I know that from experience.

And so I played golf a tad more poorly than I had hoped.

And Sunday was not a great day either. I went to the flea market (being low on fleas of late) and found it almost deserted. I went to my favorite bookstore (Linda's Used Books) and found it closed thereby allowing me to procrastinate further on my plan to study up on HTML. Which left me unhappy and morose even before visiting my least favorite sister to work on her computer.

My sister is not a bad person. But she should not be allowed to own a computer. I get a call every now and then to come over and help her straighten it out or find some allegedly lost data. I always find a series of problems causing the machine to run slower than a turtle in molasses after determining that there is no lost data. An hour's visit then lasts 3 to 4.

I finally get myself out of there, picking up a pizza with which to properly watch a football game along the way. And what happens? Faye's beloved Chargers lose in an almost fiasco.

It was pretty quiet after that.

Even the premiere of "24" later that evening could not improve the mood.