Ever had a nasty case of The Mondays?

*It was the kinds of that that begs to be pinched, to be tickled, to be slapped....anything to get it off your back and onto something more interesting. Anything to make it just loosen its grip or fade away completely. Go back to where it came from. Probably some dark room where other miserable days like itself could sit around a cramped table drinking black coffee, smoking unfiltered cigarets under a single, swaying light bulb. No doubt trying to top each others stories about the people whose entire weeks were ruined by a simple flick of the wrist, just one turn of events and a half a month is swept under the rug of misery. Its all in choosing the right person. The kind who enjoys a good wallow.
No matter how many bright lights were turned on in the house, the sleepy effect of those dark and dense clouds sitting above her head felt permanent. Just as disconcerting as someone precariously waving a dirty diaper above her head close enough to radiate heat. The velcro threatening to rip and make a bad day just that much crappier. No matter how loud the music was played, the steady beat of the falling rain was a musician with an amp that far out powered the speakers surrounding her ipod. Hot tea could sooth her temporarily, but it couldn't fight off the cold that had worked its way into her bones. Sleep seemed to just enhance the exhaustion that had seemed to set in before she had even woken up that morning. She had found a worthy opponent in that Monday. The word itself seemed to sound more like a threat that just the beginning of a new week. Even her mother heard the trepidation slightly shake her voice as they spoke in the morning.
It was impossible to ignore that had this day arrived a month earlier, it could have been sent away with its tail between its legs by a pair of arms and a flash of a smile. A very particular set of arms and a grin formed by a particular mouth. She would have sleepily opened one eye, looked out the window, and stated the very obvious "Its raining" and he would have let her wear his arms like a thick sweater dug out from the back of a closet. His grin could have replaced even the heaviest darkest load of crap with a sparkly clean shine and the slightest trace of lemon zest.
She had seen one too many Life Time movies and read one too many paper back books to allow this any longer. She could follow a sad movie montage with a peppy one of her loosing weight and running up some set of stairs representing a metaphorical larger set of stairs while a well known 80's hit plays in the back ground...Or she could cut the crap. And take out the trash. So she did the one thing He would never have allowed. She grabbed an actual favorite old sweater (one so ugly that she had never allowed herself to wear it in his presence) and left her shoes and cellphone and walked out into the rain. And when she got tired of walking, she ran. And the day had no choice but to make itself a cup of tea, pull on its stretch pants, and sulk in a corner trying to tune out the sound of its friends cackling laughter.


*First sentence provided by Michelle back in '05