I think I've managed to develop my own case of weekend remorse. Can't quite believe Monday is knocking obnoxiously on the door, and you just know that when you let it in it will probably try to kick you in the sternum or drunken sailor you into submission.
It may well be more than that, though. It's a sense of creeping dissatisfaction. The kind you feel when told "good job" and you know all too well you've been sitting on your hands and counting ceiling tiles. Or maybe it's the kind you get when you cut someone off at a 4-way and don't really understand why. Butting your head against a wall over a problem or two or three when you're not really sure what else to do but butt.
From not being able to force yourself to do something. Of being faithful but knowing that faith is not sufficient. Maybe it's that itch you feel when you're the only one in the room not in any kind of relationship, no history of them, and with no idea of how to even begin.
The dissatisfaction of being wakened by crows fighting outside your window in the dead of winter, as though over some fleshy remains. Of finding out that your hard work has been duplicated because someone assumed you couldn't handle it yourself and didn't even bother to ask.
The dissatisfaction of wondering if things will ever change and having a strong suspicion you know the answer and aren't willing to admit it. In spite of yourself.
Mix these delightful ingredients together and mix 'til homogenuous. Welcome to Monday.
Posted by eric at February 27, 2005 11:06 PM