Someone's Got a Case of the Mondays
It is Monday morning. I'm showered. I've dressed. I've blended fruit, yogurt, tea, and flax seed together to make a tasty breakfast smoothie. I've made a cuppa tea. I've made my list of things that need to be accomplished today. And, yet, I feel like I'm toodling around my apartment like one of the flesh-eating zombies in the film I saw Saturday night. (All things being equal, that isn't a bad representation of what it is to be a B-horror flick. And, the zombie locomotion in it I found to be particularly hilarious. Its like the zombies are half-cognizant flesh-eating maniacs doing their best impressions of the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Classic.)
I feel a bit like someone might pop out of the nowhere, covered in flair, and offer me a cup of coffee with a cliched remark about how awful Mondays are.
But, it isn't Mondays. I'm not even sure its mornings. To say I'm not a morning person would be inaccurate. I do not have a problem with the idea of mornings. In fact, I tend to set my alarm as early as I think I can get away with because I find that (once I get going) I can be very productive before 11 AM. A more accurate description is that I am an inertial creature. I find that changing states (asleep to awake, awake to functioning like a normal human being, any of those processes in reverse, etc.) to be difficult and, as the term "inertial" will attest, unless there is a reason I pretty much can't be bothered. Lucky for me that "a good reason" includes things like, "no longer being badgered by the insistent alarm", "hot shower water", and "cuppa". That being said, even though I've been up an hour, I could still probably pass as an extra on the set of George Romero's next film.
