Depending on which type of printed (or electronic) calendar you use, Sunday is probably the “first” day of the week. Monday follows, and that was traditionally the start of the work week. And all retail stores were closed on Sunday. It really was a special day. Now it’s hard to tell one day from another. That’s not the COVID-19 Blues or old age forgetfulness talking, every day is pretty much the same. Our society makes a big deal about Wednesday being “Hump Day”; a/k/a the middle of the week, but how do we tell?
When we were kids, my dad worked nights. His weekend was Sunday night and Monday night. That was the least they could do, since back in the day when newspapers were king, the Saturday night print of each early Sunday edition was time consuming, and the papers were big ones. Not like the ones printed today. He would often work close to twelve hours, depending on late front pages, equipment breakdown, etc. It was always something. Sundays we always went with Mom to visit both Grandmas and maybe some aunts and uncles. It just depended on how long Dad needed to sleep. Good times, really.
When I first started working after I was divorced, I didn’t like Fridays, I loved Mondays. That is weird. I hated the house without the kids, the few weekends their father took them. It took a long time for me to settle myself to stay there without them. Just me and their dog, Shadow. It was lonely. I remember what it’s like to be gut-wrenching, bone-chilling lonely those Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Yes, it was that bad. It was like that too for awhile after they were all gone from home, two moving out of state. I miss them and those hard days.
One thing I’ve always remembered during those times, is I have my worst decisions while I was lonely. I’ve stayed too long, not thought about my long term needs, and haven’t bothered to say hello. It was always such a lesson to wait on those kinds of decisions. I learned, finally, thank God! I share that because some of you may learn from it, too. Don’t decide too quickly. Do it when you’re feeling loved, not lonely.
So what makes a Monday? I believe it has to do with dread, belief in the negative, and maybe from not loving what you do enough. Now I see it as a start. A shiny new week, all ready for me to create and learn. And my book coach and I have a conference on Thursday. I’ve shared my completed homework with her, and am eager for Thursday. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to spending time with Gavin again today, and getting some quilting time in. Whoever said retirement is boring didn’t have hobbies and grandkids.
I think Monday should be looked forward to, and spent wisely. As you age you realize you are running out of time. Right now, I’m hoping to live until at least 90, to make a dent in my fabric stash for quilting. I’m still working on the Poppy Quilt, shame on me! No, other things got in the way, and I chose them instead. Now, I’m choosing a relaxing hobby to get a sense of accomplishment after completing it. All on a Monday. Gosh, Tuesday will be great, too! I’m grateful to have these bonus days of life.
Thank you for reading, I appreciate it. We are having more followers every day. For that, I’m very grateful. We are steady, and slowly gaining. Nothing flashy or grandiose. Just the great granddaughter of an Irish immigrant who scrubbed floors at the County Courthouse and learned about politics from overhearing discussions of attorneys, city and county officials. My other great grandmother was a seamstress who sewed all the uniforms for Clarkson College of Nursing back in the day. She had a family to support after her husband was gone. I never knew if that meant he left or died. No one ever talked about it. Mom tells me I got my seamstress abilities from her. How cool!
I’ll see you all tomorrow. Progress on the quilt is quite possible. Photos then. See you here then. Keep Kindness in mind. Keep Courtesy in mind. Keep Thoughtfulness in the forefront. Wash up, Mask up. Let’s do this thing.