Of Monday mornings and Christmas trees

Mondays are not my favorite. They sneak up on me. There’s no redeeming quality to a Monday, other than it’s the first day toward the end of the week.

I’m sure there are those in the world who rejoice in Mondays; who love the bright promise of a new week and all its possibilities. These would be the people who wake up refreshed, bounce out of bed and sing songs in the morning.

These would not be me.

By the way, my Christmas tree is possessed. I’ve suspected this for quite some time, but there was bloodshed this year. And I’m pretty sure it laughed at me.