It's Monday

and like every Monday, it’s kicking my b-u-t. After a weekend of doing whatever you want, sleeping when you want and waking up when you want, the Monday morning alarm clock is close to unbearable. This is especially true when you sleep extremely late on Sunday (try 1:30pm) because you were awake almost the whole night before, savoring the delightful sensation of not having a self-imposed bedtime.

Every weekend I make a resolution that, with the help of the memory of previous Monday mornings, to amend my life: I WILL avoid the occasion of a good book, late-night TV, counting flowers on the wall… and I WILL go to bed before the sun comes up, Amen. And no matter how firm my resolve, every weekend the same thing happens: I stay up all night and sleep all day. This wretched tendency towards “nocturnalism” is nothing new. I have always hated going to bed when anything (and I mean ANYTHING) was going on and I have NEVER liked getting up before 10:00am. Afraid I’ll miss something, I guess!

At least I never have trouble falling asleep Monday night!