Is Monday Really All That Manic?

At some point when I was younger, the girl group The Bangles came out with a song called Manic Monday.  The song was written by Prince, and it's all about how the singer is running about, "manic" about getting to work. It's a catchy tune, no doubt, and that's probably why the song was so popular.  Still, it has always bothered me.  Because my Mondays are more depressive than manic, and I can tell that I am not alone in that experience. 

The song starts out fine--it's "six o'clock already".  She doesn't want to get up--check.  I don't want to get up, either!  It's still mostly dark outside at that time, for one thing, and there is just something inherently wrong about having to get up before the sun does.  Getting up with the sun is fine, but getting up before the sun?  Not so much. 


And let's face it:  nobody is "manic" when they first get up in the morning.  Most of us are grouchy, cranky, and complete slugs.  Even those horrible "morning" people, who are always so bright-eyed and disgustingly cheerful in the mornings, have that five to ten minute window where they are completely unintelligible and have sleep-drool all over their face.  This is the normal state of being for humans.  I resemble Nick Nolte's famous mug shot in the morning, and it takes me a good two hours and at least three cups of coffee before I remember that I know how to talk in a coherent sentence.  If I have to make a decision prior to 7am, I become as agitated as that gorilla in the old Samsonite commercials.  I am not what one would call a "morning person", and I know lots of people like me.   Now, Prince, who wrote Manic Monday, might be one of those rare individuals who leap out of bed each morning, ready to face the day with a smile and lots of energy.  But the rest of us every day schlubs?  No.  If we are rising early and are cheerful about it, there is usually a reason, such as pharmacological assistance. 

The song continues with a reference to an early train, and how she can't get to work by nine.  What?  She gets up THREE hours before she has to be at work, and she still can't get there? What the heck is she doing?  Where does this train leave from, that it takes her so long?  I recognize that there may be extenuating circumstances, such as trains breaking down or Dennis Hopper fighting Keanu Reeves, but still.  A little planning takes care of all that, and I cannot believe that I just said that, but it's true.  I know exactly when I have to leave the house, compensating for school traffic and base shift changes, and that's when I try to head out. I put my clothes out the night before, and I don't even have to open my eyes to get into the shower.  Surely this person who takes THREE hours to get to work can figure this out?   She could wear her jammies on the train, and not a single person would notice!

To top it off, the girl singing indicates that her boyfriend decided that he wanted to fool around last night, and that's why she is running late.  The song specifically states that she is the main breadwinner in the house.  I am all for a bit of the hanky-panky on a school night.  It's a great stress reliever, and helps ensure good sleep.  However, if I am in danger of losing my job because I'm chronically late, that has to take priority, and the boyfriend will just have to deal with that.  Of course, I would not consider supporting a man who wasn't working, unless he was earning his keep in some way.  The toilets don't clean themselves, after all!

So what the heck is Prince/The Bangles singing about, really?  Over the years, I've decided that they are singing about the fact that growing up and being an adult kinda sucks. Yes, you get to make all your own decisions, like when to stay up all night bingewatching Justified.  Which is great, except that you still have to maintain all of the other responsibilities of adulthood, like paying the bills and keeping food on the table.  That means waking up before the sun comes up, and going to work.

Not a happy song, is it?  Oh well, at least the tune is catchy. 

It's Freakin' Monday

The one bad thing about getting two weeks off for the holidays is that those fourteen days are long enough for me to get completely off my schedule, sleep-wise.  Consequently, I stay up way too late and get up way too early.  I do much better with a consistent sleep schedule, but the holidays just throw me. I predict that today I will wake up groggy and irritable.  I will likely move slowly, my knees creaking loudly as I lean on the rail to go down the stairs.  I may or may not have an excitable puppy hurrying me along, so she can get outside and pee on the grass, not the carpet.   The Downstairs Cat will greet me, her tail waving regally, her eyes blinking in the kitchen light. Both the dog and the cat will race outside, but the day doesn't officially begin until I start the coffee brewing.

It was way too easy for me to let go of work for this vacation.  Make no mistake, I love my chosen career.  I am perfectly happy to be a school psychologist.  I'm just not too keen on my current job right now. Not only am I saddled with way more paperwork than one human should be, not only do I wear too many hats, now two of my colleagues quit.  We started off the school year two people short because of budget cuts(did you ever notice that the people making the budget cuts never cut their own salaries?), but we lost those two as well.  All of those people were good people, tired of dealing with all the paperwork and the negativity, so they went to work somewhere else.  It's not a good situation, but there it is.  Somebody's got to take up the slack, and one of those people is me.  I don't have to like the situation.  I do, however, have to deal with it, and I plan to do my very best. 

Starting with the preparations for the day. I've made very sure that there is enough coffee in the house, so that at least won't be a problem.  I remembered to ask my husband and son to gather up all their various items into one spot for easy location.  If I am lucky, they remembered.  If I am not lucky, then there will be many trips up and down the stairs to get shirts, and pants, and socks, followed by much yelling.  I would rather not have any battles before we even get out the door, but sometimes that is just the way it goes.  Hopefully, Zane won't throw a fit when we drop him off at school; trying to leave when your kid is holding onto your leg and crying puts a damper on the rest of the day.   After dropping off Zane, we will drop off Maisy at my mother-in-law's house(doggie daycare), and fight the traffic to New Braunfels. If the traffic is especially bad, I may have to stop and get a breakfast taco.  

Once I get to the office, there will be a certain routine to everything.  There will be meetings to schedule and people to call, and emails to send out, and reports to write, and before I know it, it will be time to come home. I will pick up Larry, we will pick up Maisy and Zane and head for home.  Zane and I will take Maisy for a long walk, and then start our evening routine so that we are ready for Tuesday.

One foot in front of the other, we will all get back into our routine, and Mondays won't be so bad.  

Bleah

As an introverted sort, I prefer minimal interactions with others.  It's not them, it's me.  Days with lots and lots and lots of people in them drain me.  I feel as if I am submerged in a swift-running stream, and the fast water won't allow me even the chance to stick my head above water to catch a breath.  Lately the swift-running stream has become the Mississippi River.  They call that river the Mighty Mississippi, but it is also called the Muddy Mississippi; the imaginary mud of that river flowing over me seems to obscure the banks.  I can see no end in sight, and I feel drowned. I sometimes even forget that I can swim, and there's something vaguely claustrophobic about being underwater. It's panic upon panic upon stress, and it's not pretty, no matter what those Type A people tell you.

I have no choice but to meet people, to sit in classrooms, to call parents on the phone.  It's my job as a school psychologist, and normally I don't mind that; I love working with the kids.  Except that lately all I seem to do is push around mountains of paper and hold seemingly endless meetings that almost never solve any issues.  I hate that.   I like problem-solving, not problem-talking. 

Since I also wear the hat(more of a beanie, actually. With a jaunty propeller.) of a systems administrator, I have to be available to provide support for people when they have questions.  When I get a phone call, someone screaming that they "can't" log in, and demanding that I drop every single thing that I am doing to immediately take care of them, I just have to grit my teeth and try to visualize my inner peace as best I can. And when the reason that they "can't" log in is because they are trying to log in to a completely different program, I must simply smile.  If they are logging in using their password instead of their username, I can smirk a little, but only if I am very careful.  Yes, I am so stressed out that I find minor bliss in getting to smirk. 

So when I wake up in the morning and find myself thinking of a reason to call in sick, I know that I am overstretched.  I need a day off.  But I can't take that day off, however, because there is no work fairy alive who would willingly attempt to do my job, and I would never subject my coworkers to the torture of having to do my job for me.  That would be unethical, and they would toilet paper my cubicle or glue all my testing manuals together.  And I know that it's only work, and that this too, shall pass.  It's just that the Muddy Mississippi is pulling me down, and I've forgotten how to swim.  So I need to focus on the happy things that happen, like my son's smile, and let go of the work when it is time to go home.  It is just harder on some days than others, and today is a 'bleah' day.