Fifty-two times a year Monday comes along. Twenty-four hour chunks of time that for most of my life I welcomed it's arrival like the other six days a week. With a cup of coffee and a shower... and with joy, gratefulness and anticipation... ok with a combination of these, depending on... well just depending! And most often times not with as much joy as Fridays. Just being honest here.
When the script on Mondays begins to read like this image, it's a sign. Mondays have always been my internal broadcasting system. Remember, the Emergency Broadcast System, that was used back in the day? If you were watching TV, or listening to the radio a signal would begin to play and then:
"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is only a test... if this had been an actual emergency..."
So when I find myself wanting my Mondays back, or as my dear sister-in-law said to me, when there are too many Mondays in the week, I know it's time to get ready for some hard work. So as this day approaches a few hours from now, I heart Mondays. It's a wise old day, a good friend, a trusted adviser.