… is Friday’s moron.
I’m going to have that embroidered on a sampler, and I’m going to mount it here on the wall of my office. Oh yes. Yes, I shall.
Oh Mondays, I am brilliant. It’s a new day! A new week! And THIS WEEK, I shall triumph. I will be on top of my game. Work will melt away under my fingertips, the children will be delightful and charming, the house will be clean, and late at night I will sidle up to my husband and whisper something a little more sexy than, “I am so tired right now I could cry, if only I had the energy.”
On Mondays, all things are possible.
By Friday, I’m just a mewling puddle of uselessness.
The sad part is, it’s entirely my fault. My misery is of my own making. (Don’t bother suggesting it; I already HAVE that one on a sampler.) Here is but a sampling of the ways in which I unnecessarily complicate my life:
I repeatedly order clothing online from a store where I always end up taking the stuff back. I’m like one of those rats hitting the bar for the food pellet, and the food pellet NEVER COMES, yet I cannot stop myself from pounding on the bar. I mean, let’s examine the facts: I place an order (with free shipping, and a coupon code, which is probably what lures me in) telling myself that hey, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just take the items to the brick and mortar version of the store. No loss. My order shows up and nothing fits right, and suddenly the “wow, isn’t it great how I’m saving money by doing this from the comfort of my home” undertaking becomes an unnecessary trip across town to return the stuff. Without fail, I end up receiving the package on a Thursday. You know, because I’m always in such a good mood on Friday and have NOTHING ELSE TO DO but return the clothes I foolishly thought would fit this time.
I do things like turn to my son and say, “You can have your birthday party this weekend or not at all, so what’s it gonna be?” You remember Monkey’s birthday, don’t you? I have been trying to pin that kid down on a party plan for MONTHS. He’s had a lot of great ideas. Ton of ’em! All at the same time! And so it’s been endless months of “Well maybe I…” and “How about…” and finally I had to put my foot down. DUDE. How about some friends, this weekend? He said sure. I mailed the moms. They gave the thumbs up. It’s all great! Except that apparently I am having a birthday party here tomorrow, and I have… ummm… oh, that’s right, NOTHING. No party food, no party favors, and—especially—no party plan. Seems like maybe I should do something about that. (“Hi, come on it! We’re all… just sitting here! Drinking water! WOO!”)
I complain about how much time choir takes up, and then I go join a quartet, too. Fear not, Dad—all those years of voice training aren’t going to waste! Now I’m inflicting my mediocre sight-reading skills on even more people! Thankfully this is putting a huge dent in my already tight schedule, plus a recent rehearsal caused me to spend half of this morning searching online for some music software I can use to practice. The only problem? Friday Brain prevented me from figuring out what to search on, and I wasted a lot of time with things like “free Mac download music” before I finally added “notation” to my search terms and stumbled on a suitable program. Because rehearsals weren’t time-consuming enough, and now I would like to spend two hours painstakingly programming in the alto line of this song I cannot seem to learn. Because I am retarded. Oh, hmmm. There’s a key change in the middle. I have no idea how to do that with this software; better figure in an extra hour for that.
I tell a client that I’d be happy to attend that planning meeting via teleconference. Oh, that’s something I need to do. No problems there, right? Except that Monday Brain is all “Teamwork! Rah Rah! I’m on it, boss!” and Friday Brain realizes that someone sent me a PowerPoint template. Because apparently they are expecting… slides? From me? And probably not ones that say “Words good. Pay me muchly for them. Thanx!” Also, I’ve rejected several other ideas, too. (Favorite Dilbert strips or LOLcats, pictures of dollar signs, or just a bold rendering of my phone number with a brief explanation about how you can better expect me to know what you’re doing if you call and tell me about it.) Maybe they’d like the sheet music to this piece I’m working on for the quartet…?
I do things like offhandedly mention “Sure, we’ll make a cake for the cake auction.” Seriously. What is wrong with me? Chickadee wanted to discuss this cake in the car on the way to school, and I am here to tell you that there is NOTHING I want to discuss at 7:00 in the morning except how I’d like you to fix my coffee. And this is not a great match for a couple of kids who are interested in hearing that maybe, JUST MAYBE, you spoke too soon and there might not be time to make a cake because OH MY GOD, it’s already Friday and do they have ANY IDEA what all you need to get done in the coming week?
Thank goodness the grandparents are coming for a visit in a few days. It’ll be nice, next Friday, to at least have someone here to wipe the drool off my chin.