WHAT’S SO BAD ABOUT MONDAY – THE UGLY TRUTH
Feeling refreshed on Mondays is about as achievable as finding the Holy Grail. No matter how many facial massages, calming, aromatic baths and guided meditation sessions I do on Sunday evening, Monday morning always seems to hit me like an articulated truck – one with a ‘LUGGAGE. DOOR. IN. OPER. ATION.’ You know the one. It doesn’t matter if you’re a hardened alcoholic on 40 Johnny Blues a day or a Chia Bia, seed-worshipping yogi, the Monday morning blues are part and parcel of the Irish psyche. And there’s nothing better than a good moan, so I’m ranting about the top five things that get my goat about Mondays. Can I get an amen?
1. THE FEAR
It doesn’t matter if you’re the Rose of Tralee or the person who collects the sanitary bins from businesses (and they definitely deserve a pay rise), if you’re like the majority of Irish people, you’ve spent Sunday night drenched in the fear. Non-specific feelings of self-loathing and discomfort will wash over you like a wave of shame. You will dread the next morning with all your heart, all your soul and all your strength. The thoughts of work make you want to curl up in the foetal position and you do. Work will be the worst thing that has ever happened you tomorrow and come Tuesday everything will be ok. But for now, it most certainly is not.
2. STARTING OVER
You’ve avoided the gym like a coldsore all week. You’ve promised yourself that come the new week you will start afresh. Everything will be different. You will eat goji berry protein balls instead of Taytos and avocados on toast will replace the pop tarts as your go-to diet staple. You stock up on kale on Sunday afternoon, you even make a specific trip to Tesco because Lidl doesn’t have notions. Then, you innocently glance at your Insta-feed in the morning – it’s filled with ‘basic bitch’ memes like ‘but first, coffee’ and carefully manipulated cappucino pictures with perfectly placed Dipytque candle on the cleanest, shiniest marble desk you’ve ever seen. You’ve sworn off milk for the week but it can’t hurt to have one little latte now, can it? Plus the fact that you’re due a free one on your Bewley’s loyalty card. Drats.
3. PUBLIC TRANSPORT
There’s nothing exciting about the prospect of that commute after a two day Netflix binge of House of Cards, Love and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. The Luas is more crowded, the bus is later and the smells. Oh, the smells. You know the ones from two days of binge drinking Guinness and kebabs overflowing with onions. The meat sweats. The man with the prison tattoos who insists on telling you his life story and talks to you as if you’re kindred spirits. Whatever you do, for the love of God, do not say, ‘No, I don’t know what you mean.’ Smile and nod.
4. WHAT TO WEAR
You spent all of Sunday in your fluffy onesie and now you have to consider the prospect of actual, real clothes. You started a clearout on Sunday afternoon and got so bored that you abandoned it halfway through and now you’re left with a mound of clothes and the thoughts of choosing something to wear feels like you’re about to climb Kilimanjaro (although let’s face it you have no idea what that feels like). You channel your inner Michael Palin in order to summon the greatest amount of energy you will ever need. You fail. You do succeed, however, in dressing like Michael Palin. Chinos are never a good option. Michael, why have you forsaken me????
5. THE SMUG BRIGADE
Everyone around you has a Donald Trump amount of smugness. Your colleague’s life is a thousand times more glamorous than yours. You shed a tear in the toilet after seeing her Instagram pictures of Saturday night’s dinner at a Michelin star restaurant and the numerous beauty treatments she’s documented on Snapchat- nails, hair, eyelashes, you name it. You mutter something about a couple’s treatment you once did with your ex where they made you rub mud on your bodies, thinking its potential for hilarity is a guarantee. It is not. You feel like an ever bigger culchie than you already are. You swoon over your friend’s new engagement ring but you go outside for some air and actually faint behind the wheelie bin because you are so dazed by the diamond that your blood pressure has dropped to a severely low level. You smile through gritted teeth at your boss’s ‘fit-fam’ weekend mini-break with the wife and kids – a quick ski trip to Andorra – how is this even possible?
Blinded with rage? Me too. Just go for that coffee. And the Aungier Dangerdoughnut. Tomorrow will be Tuesday and everything will be ok.