Monday has always been my least popular day. Because work started again, the horrific sound of the alarm jolted me from bed, disoriented me and made me bemoan my fate of five more days until the weekend. I was always tired on Mondays regardless of how much sleep I got on the weekends. I don’t work now, but I am still not fond of Mondays. The papers are thin. It seems there is never much news on a Sunday to write about on a Monday. I suffer from lethargy, not as severe as on a work day Monday but it’s still a lack of enthusiasm to do anything of substance. I keep staring at the laundry bags sitting in the hall waiting to go downstairs to be washed. This would be the perfect time for laundry elves who would leave my clothes cleaned and folded. I have to fill the bird feeders, a small task grown out of proportion by the day of the week. I’m already tired or maybe I’m just still tired.

It was sunny when I woke up, a strange phenomenon, but the world has righted itself and now it’s cloudy. A rain snow mix is expected tonight. We’ll have mostly rain, less than a half-inch. North of us will have snow.

I could do an errand today, but I won’t. I’m staying home. I’ll get it done tomorrow. Tuesdays are nothing days which have no innate negativity, no descriptions of any sort and no nicknames. Nobody says TGIT and hump day is Wednesday. Tuesday is the forgotten day unless we count monumental events like Black Tuesday or Super Tuesday. I don’t.

Yesterday I watched a baseball game. It was the Sox and the Jays. The Red Sox wore green hats and green shirts for St. Patrick’s Day. Lester pitched six great innings. I was envious of the people in the stands who were dressed in summer clothes. I hoped they were hot and sweaty. I am not above a bit of spite.

My coffee this morning was monkey poop coffee my nephew brought back from Bali.