If only weekends were longer

It’s so old to say “I hate Mondays”, but I really do.

I hate Sunday evenings too, because the threat of the looming Monday just kind of ruins my evening. S. and I were wtaching the Eagles (YEAH!) kick the Giants to the curb last night, and after we jumped for joy at the final Akers field goal with 3 seconds to go on the clock… (damn, that was a good game) we don’t even care that we win against New Orleans next week, cause we made it to the playoffs without McNabb!

wait, where was I?

Oh yeah, after we jumped up and yelled at the end of the game, we turned to each other and said…

“Eeeew, tomorrow is Monday”.

And, from that point, I started my Sunday night ritual. Get David’s clothes together for school, prepare his lunch for the morning, finish folding the wash, clean up the kitchen, take out the trash…. 9pm, bedtime.

5:30am came too soon this morning.

Blech….

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