Monday Monday Can't Trust That Day
Mondays bring out the crazy in me. "A new week! Why not learn a new language?" I’ll say to myself (and don’t think for a second I’m NOT driving around with an untouched case of Spanish Behind the Wheel CDs.) I have thoughts like this every Monday, never mind that it’s the day I have to meet my main deadline and catch up with all my writer correspondence.Last week I had to have something weird done to one eyelid so I canceled all my appointments and thought “Just rest, T" – but I had to practically lash myself to the stove not to think up all new jobs for myself. “Look at this nice new morning!” I said on my very first day post-op. “Why don’t I drive 60 miles to the memorial service of the sibling of that friend I haven’t seen in 50 years?” (I seriously almost did this.) Or, on realizing the next day was the 98th anniversary of Titanic’s loss, “Why don’t I go to Foxwoods and look at their Titanic exhibit? Just drive two hours to see some glass bottles and some misshapen pieces of hull!”Am I completely abnormal? By most people’s standards sure, but evidently not by mine.Last year my primary care doc tried to tell me I was depressed and why didn’t I write and then pitch to ‘legitimate’ publishers that book I always said I’d wanted to write. I was ready to squeeze every other thing in my life to the side and do just that, only because she said to and never mind that I’ve already written four books AND marketed AND sold them all myself and it nearly killed me do you hear, it nearly killed me. A good friend saw where I posted about this remark and called me right up. “I guess I have to write that book now,” I mewed to her. “Oh screw that," she said. “I’d go on the anti-depressants before I took that advice!”I don’t know, I don't know. If there’s something wrong with me it’s been wrong all my life. Maybe right now I just need to finish the column, write the dozen letters, EAT something for God's sake and hang on for Tuesday.
