For most people, Mondays are notorious for inducing feelings of doom and gloom at the impending chaos that a new week may bring. Fridays are more pleasurable – offering a respite from the chaos. However, most working mothers with small babies will attest to the fact that every day is largely the same – Mondays just elicit an involuntary psychological response.
Now usually, I am nonchalant about Mondays. My feeling is, it will always be there, whilst I cannot embrace it, I will have to accept it (or some other stupid affirmation I repeat to get myself going). Today however was NOT one of those Mondays.
It started with me waking up late. Now my built in alarm clock, in the form of my 19 month old son, is usually ready for action by 5am. Today, as Murphy’s law would have it, would be the day that he decides to sleep in. Mr G also usually creates a ruckus when he leaves for work at 5:30am but today he opted to be silent. How thoughtful ordinarily. Today however, all this thoughtfulness resulted in me waking up in a state of panic at 5:50am. In a mad rush to get my daughter to school, I find something to wear that did not involve ironing. As I slip into my (new) pair of stockings, I discover (too late) that I bought the incorrect size. The smaller pair of stockings now end at my thighs which is extremely uncomfortable but with time being limited and in an effort to stay warm I decided to keep them on. Unfazed, I slip into my favourite dress, only to realise that my wonderful proactive domestic helper decided to iron out the (decorative) creases of my “dry clean only” dress now resulting in a lovely hole on the side. With my stress levels increasing, I decide to hell with it, throw on a coat and leave. My efficiency and personality at work should count for more than what I wear anyway!
I get to work in record time in spite of the above, only to discover that my access card – controlling my entry into the building – seemed to have vanished. And today would be the day that the security guard who greets me faithfully every morning, would suffer from amnesia and would refuse to allow me access to the staff entrance. In a huff, I park in the visitors parking and walk the two flights of stairs to get to my office (the luxury of a lift is there for access card holders only), dragging my bag and laptop behind me.
I reach my office only to find THE BOSS waiting for me. He, being in the minority, is a Monday person of the nauseating kind. Enthusiastic to come to work and ready for the week and all of its challenges, he is happy and smug as he tells me to prepare for a four hour meeting tomorrow that starts at 4pm and casually hands me a to-do list of a million odd things to do before midday. My temperature rises and I am ready for a breakdown but my half stockings distract me as they seem to land in awkward places. Wriggling around trying to make myself comfortable, in the privacy of my own office, I turn around to find my colleague waiting to introduce the NEW MALE consultant joining our team. With all decorum gone, no explanation would seem fitting so blatant lies would have to do and I concoct a story about an insect that made its way strategically into my person. Neither of them bought it though, I could tell from the awkward silence immediately after ?
So, how to survive an imminent Monday meltdown? I don’t have a bloody clue. All I know is that this kind of drama does make for a very funny story when you aren’t on the receiving end.
PS: One ought to really look at the package when one selects pantyhose from a rail that presumably has all of the same sizes!