Why are Mondays so Awful

I woke at 5:30am this morning. I’m not entirely sure how or why. I was suddenly wide awake, checking the radio alarm clock, reading email, and wondering about getting up. I didn’t. Somehow my body told my brain “don’t be so stupid”, and I woke again as the local radio station flooded the bedroom with mid 90s tunes, and the voice of a friend.

While I got up, had a shower, made breakfast, and started on lunches, a running battle began to form upstairs, where Miss 14 was threatened with the end of the world as she knew it if she didn’t get up and go to school. The battle raged on for the best part of an hour – making my other half late for work, Miss 17 late for her work placement, and causing her younger sister to leave the house on the verge of tears after navigating an hour of shouting and screaming while trying to eat breakfast, and get her school bags ready.

I looked in on the war-zone during hostilities, and couldn’t quite believe that a teenage girl could willingly live in such deplorable conditions of her own making. I know people often remark about teenage boys living in hell-hole bedrooms, but this was on another level entirely.

Somehow – and I’m still not entirely sure how – my other half got through to her. After receiving repeated assurances that she really was getting up and going to school, everybody began running from the house like rats deserting a sinking ship – leaving me behind to ensure promises were kept.

“Are you working from home?”

“No. I’m waiting for you to leave before I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you any more.”

“What should I say to the office at school when I get there ?”

“The truth – that you couldn’t be bothered to get up.”

“But I don’t want to tell them that.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that an hour ago.”

I felt awful, shutting her down like that, but given my other half had already written to the school to let them know exactly what had transpired, there seemed little point in fabricating any sort of story.

After watching her walk to the far corner of the green where we live, I texted my other half, emailed work (telling them I would be late), and retrieved my bike from the shed.

Somehow I arrived at the office on-time, and sat on my own for the first ten minutes. I’m not entirely sure why so many of my co-workers think it’s fine to arrive a few minutes late. Perhaps being on-time is just another hang-up to add to my collection – along with obeying every rule in existence if I possibly can.

Anyway. It’s half past three in the afternoon at the time of writing, and I just stopped work for a few minutes to write this. I worked straight through lunch (again), and hadn’t really stopped – I’m not entirely sure emptying my head will help at all, but I guess there’s hope.

I need to book flights and train tickets soon. I’m heading to the north of England in a few days, and then to Germany again next month. I still haven’t learned any Germany beyond “Hallo”, “Danke”, “Nein”, and a particularly effective lost expression.

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