monday morning confession

I used to get the Sunday night blues.  Fiercely.  Bitter depression and anger, the most horrible feeling in my gut, my soul, I almost wished I were dead rather than wake up the next morning.  That's how bad I felt about my job, my cubicle prison, my panic attack in a uniformly shaped box.

Things are different now.  I work a different job now, one that I do not hate.  Don't get me wrong, I don't really like my job either.  But the people I work with are good people.  And the biggest, most amazingly wonderful thing of all, is that I work from home now.  So even though I care very little for my job, my job situation and the people I work with simply could not be better.

Another difference is that I have a family now.  It's not like my weekends are just filled to the brim with video games and movies and sexually harrassing my wife any more.  Now they are filled to the brim, and spilling over, with chores, diaper changes, keeping up with my 3-year-old son, more chores, family activities (so important, especially for the kids), more chores after that, staring at even more chores that won't get done, and of course sexually harrassing my wife some more (because she's hot, I can't help it).  But my weekends are exhausting now, just flat out exhausting.

So here's the deal, here's my big secret: I can't wait for Monday mornings now.  By about Saturday night, I am so ready for Monday morning, it hurts, and I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through Sunday.  I love spending time with my family, I love my kids, but it is overwhelming.  Monday morning, the wife goes to work, I take the kids to daycare, and then I'm alone, in my basement.  Sure, it's time to go to work, but nobody at work is really online and active yet, so there's nobody calling or sending emails for awhile.  So it's just me.  In the quiet.  Oh man, it's so good.

A real reversal, eh?  I used to have panic attacks on Monday mornings.  I used to get depressed every Sunday night, mourning the end of the weekend.  And now, sometimes Monday morning can't come soon enough.

I feel guilty about it sometimes, but I have to reassure myself, this doesn't make me a bad person.  I love my kids and do as much as I can to be the best father I can be.  I love my wife and I try to be a good husband.  But let's face it, I've always thrived on an abnormally large quantity of solitude, and now that I hardly ever get that, I'm starved for it.  And the closest I get to having it is on Monday mornings.