.mondays and why they suck.

Mondays are the worst.

I know that the majority of the working population would agree with the above statement.  You go to bed on a Sunday night, after having fun for the last two days, and wake up to a whole week of suck.  For me Mondays are not about going into work, because well I'm not working right now.   

What?!?!  In this economy?  I thought you lived in Los Angeles????

Yup.  What can I say?  Leif and I are just frugal old fuddy-duddies. We make it work.

There is, however, a huge stack of board review books that is sitting on my dining room table at this very moment.  If you listen closely you can hear their soft whispers shaming and judging me for the five weeks since graduation that they have mostly gone unnoticed and neglected.  On second thought, I guess the author of those whispers is my own guilt.  After all, I have an absurd amount of educational debt to repay since I went to the most expensive university in Southern California [insert more shameful and judgmental whispers here]. 

But I digress.  Back to the topic at hand.  Mondays and why they suck.

They suck because it is back to just the two of us when Leif leaves the house.  Meaning me and Grief.  We are the newest version of Bosom Buddies, if you will.  You can think of me as Henry, the reluctant cohort, and Grief as Kip, the obvious leader of the comedic duo.  Instead of the cross-dressing charade of Kip and Henry, Grief and I try to convince other people (ok, mostly I just try to convince myself), that life after George will not be shit forever.

We don't even need to change the theme song.  Don't believe me?  Just watch/listen for yourself.



Grief can really be a high maintenance pain-in-the-ass.  Grief demands attention constantly.  He has a larger than life personality and frankly he dominates almost every situation that the two of us find ourselves in when Leif is not around.

Leif is the only one I know who can quiet down Grief in any meaningful way.

Side note: Why do I refer to Grief as a "he?"  Really Grief is more androgynous a la David Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust period, I think.  


Almost everything Grief does is over the top (again like David Bowie?).
"Look at me!" Grief exclaims. "I'm juggling your entire world over here.  What?  You don't want me doing that over a giant gaping black hole of sorrow?  You're afraid that it might fall in?  You have nothing to worry about.  What could possibly go wrong?"

But there are sometimes, like as I write this, when it is just the two of us that Grief tuckers itself out early and naps on the couch next to me.  Grief is always there, probably will be for the rest of my life (BFFs Forever).  But during the last week Grief has been in overdrive so I think it just doesn't have the energy this morning to tear shit up like usual.  A welcome respite but I know it won't last for long.

So I guess I should take advantage of this time and get some actual work done.  I mean really, if everyone else has to go to work maybe I should too.

I think the next visit with my therapist I will bring up the fact that Grief is looking more and more like David Bowie these days.  I wonder what other peoples' Griefs look like...