Recently, Mondays seem to be my most productive days. I have traditionally been tolerant of Mondays, neither hating them as the start of a new week, nor loving them (also as the start of a new week). Mondays are when every diet starts, every new resolution is steadfast (This week I’m going to finally fold all my laundry!), every hope for the upcoming week flourishes. Perhaps because I’m a Questioner (according to Gretchen Rubin’s tendencies framework), I don’t see a special significance to Mondays. It’s just as easy for me to start anything on a Wednesday, or a Saturday, even though Mondays seem vaguely auspicious.
Mondays are probably my most productive days for the simple reason that I have the most to do on them. I have been taking as full a rest as possible on Sundays, neither making my bed or doing dishes, and I’m working towards not having to cook at all, simply warming up something pre-made. On Monday, weekend dishes must be done (even with Saturday dinner dishes, usually only takes me 30 minutes, 45 tops), trash must be gathered for Tuesday’s disposal, laundry must be done, and of course the bed must once again be made. Today, everything that had to get done was done so quickly in fact, that I sat and organized all of Peanut’s toys (now just to cull the herd). Because of my resolution to take care of everything slowly and methodically (in order to avoid my otherwise inevitable burnout), I was able to sit and relax, enjoying a new mystery novel and thinking about what comes next, both today and tomorrow, and then the rest of the week. As far as tonight, I’m going to enjoy one of my favorite shows (Counting On, if you must know), while probably cleaning off the couch, folding blankets, and enjoying the smell of the golden apple wax warmer filling my apple-colored living room.
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