NOTHING BUT YOURSELF

Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water, along comes that beast with the giant proverbial teeth to bite me in the ass:

MONDAY.
 It seems to me that Monday continues to roll around once a week, and damn if it doesn't always appear sandwiched between Sunday and Tuesday as if I won't even notice it.  As if it's a pill wrapped up in cheese.  As if the doctor is going to reset my broken bone right there in the office at the count of one... two ... (CRACK!) .... um ... three?

Only two more Monday early-calls for school this year, though.  Then I start with the early-morning beach trips.  Don't be jealous; I don't get paid for the summers off.  No teacher does.  I'm not complaining.  If it weren't for the weeks away from the children, cherubs that they are, I would be in Baldpate Mental Hospital by now.  

Monday, you may have me for the time being, but soon, very soon, I will have you.  I won't even know nor care when you come knocking because for a few weeks, for a short time, for several moments of joyous rapture, Monday, YOU will mean nothing to ME.  You know, kind of like right now I mean nothing to YOU.

Bring it, Monday.  Bring it today and next week, then I'm going to bring it right back and flaunt it so bad.  Maybe I'll do some kind of Monday Watusi (like an old school booty dance, for you teeny-boppers) right in your Monday face.  Then you see how much YOU like it.

Monday, you may have me today and you may have me on the 23rd.  I can take it.  After all, I have Tuesday to look forward to, and what have you?  Monday.  That's it.  That's what you can look forward to, Monday: Yourself.  I have six other days, but what have you? 

Nothing.  You will forever be Monday.  You have nothing but yourself. 

Oh, and me ... for  another Monday after today.  Then we can be friends again, but until then, I still don't like you.  Just so you know, anyway.