But, let's face it, Monday is for most of us the first day of the week, the first whirrings of human anxiety over the labor pains mandated by Adam Smith and his Captains of Commerce.
Is this what St. Benedict had in mind with his "laborare est orare" ["to work is to pray"]? I believe he symmetrically balanced the phrase with "orare est laborare" ["to pray is to work"]. Yes, sometimes it takes work to pray; other times it comes as easily as
H
E
L
P
!
E
L
P
!
as one dangles from one's fingertips from the ledge of one's unmaking.
But back to Monday. Or, if you prefer, Moonday.
I wonder why we have this moon thing going on. I invite your lunar musings. Monday means the day of the moon, Moonday. (Of course, right after the day of the sun, Sunday.) The inevitable
comparisons to the moon's feminine attributes will be invoked, but what are we to make of them?On Mondays I typically must invoke ever-more-powerful prayers and incantations to pry myself from under the canopy of cozy sheets. Translation: God! It is hard to get up!
Am I trained to dread Monday with its quest for the almighty quotidian, its maelstrom of management and duty? Or, am I out of training for the travails of work? Does Friday and Saturday catapult me away from the rigors of capitalism?
Maybe that's it: workaholics are so afraid of losing stride, so neurotic about getting out of workshape, they never stop working. Feck 'em.
Or is Monday no worse than any other day, except in my weekend-laden mind?
Perhaps Monday is perfectly named, with its moonish craters and cravings, its hotness and coldness, its unearthly airiness, its moonday Mondayishness.
In all honesty, it wasn't too bad today. I got through the day. I didn't invoke Saint Monday and stay home. I'd say Mondays are dangerous and potentially subversive, in the same way vacations are. That's it! That's where the powers of the moon come in! Beware of anyone making a life-changing decision on a Monday or during or right after a vacation. ("Marge, I think we should stay here in Aruba. We can find work. We'll love it. It'll work. Really!")
Well, at least I didn't book a flight to Vegas, just to escape the pressure, as Tony Soprano did in last night's episode.
He just might stare at the Vegas desert sun forever, and never see the moon again, anywhere, day or night, Moonday or Monday.
How was your Moonday?
P.S. Incidentally, come to think of it, the French don't mince words: Work literally is travail!
