I dread Mondays. Not because of the work week beginning or the weekend ending. Well, not completely anyway. My schedule and career choice makes every day seem like a combination workday and weekend. That’s part of what I love about being a writer. It’s always one adventure after another, even if I never leave my little corner in the backyard.
No, Mondays are hard because I go through separation withdrawals. The girls have surrounded me for three days, their laughter filling the house. I’ve been able to touch them and talk to them whenever I wanted and vice versa. If I get an idea, I can share it right then. If we want to go messing, we hop in the van and simply go. We’re always together and we’re always doing something.
Then, Monday comes along and the three of them return to work, because unlike me they do not work from home, and I’m left all alone. You might think after so much togetherness I would be craving a break from the estrogen, wanting some quiet time to see what Rhychard and Kree are up to next, but no, I actually hate it when I’m alone. I work better when at least one of them is around and when they’re all gone, I kind of go stir crazy, wandering the house looking for them. I know it’s sad. It’s almost as if I can’t focus. I waste three-quarters of my day just trying to settle my mind enough to type at least one sentence. They say I have issues, but I just remind them that they knew that from the beginning. Of course, they then admit they suffer from the same problem. I think that’s why Mondays are so rough on most of us. We’re yanked from the loved ones we’ve been surrounded by and hate the feeling of being dragged away.
It’s the same way after a vacation. With our most recent trip to Savannah, the four of us were surrounded by six of our closest friends. For four days and three nights, we did everything together. Well, not everything. I was able to poop in peace, which is something that doesn’t always happen at home. However, everything else we did together and we loved it all.
You would think that with ten different personalities, by the end of the trip we would be sick of each other for a while. Not us. Not this group. On the ride home, we were already making plans to get together again soon–a cookout, dancing, watching paint dry–it didn’t matter. The car ride home had texts traveling back and forth as some were already feeling that separation withdrawal and getting antsy.
I know there are people out there who just can’t wait to get to work. Those people have separation withdrawals from their desk. It’s not that they love their jobs more than the rest of us. They don’t. No one could love their job more than me as I sit around killing off the people who annoy me in vicious and cruel ways. The girls and I love our jobs and do not see a time when we’re not working. No, it’s that our focus is different, our priorities. We are not workaholics, but rather peoplaholics. We love to be around those we love and care about and it causes an imbalance that requires some effort to adjust in their absence.
We do adjust, however. By the time Wednesday arrives, we have hit our groove and are feeling productive again. Yet, Wednesday is hump day and we’re already looking to the weekend and the plans we’ve made–or have been made for us–to be around each other. It’s a cycle. One that will never end, but that’s okay. It gives me something to look forward to and that’s what pulls me through the work week.
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