Why does Monday feel like an accident? It’s like we’re cruising down the interstate inside a couple days supplied to us by Don Henley and the next thing we know, a day comes out of nowhere to sideswipes our asses. And the worst part is, our insurance won’t cover the damage since the day really didn’t come out of nowhere. We saw it coming for days, in fact.
Mondays roll like that. They’re used to being the punchlines divvied up by their more fortunate calendar compatriots. Tuesday gets off on knowing at least it’s not Monday. Wednesday is the hump day darling . . Thursday is the Eve of Friday, whose proper is disco lemonade to our senses. Saturday is so dang popular that Chicago wrote an anthem for it, and Sunday is where all the other days come to chill. All the other days excepting for Monday, which ain’t fetching an invite on account of all the mellow it harshes, just by being in the room.
And so this Monday finds the Dubs as the baller kings who just sent LBJ off in search of a funky town where he can reclaim his crown. And I want it to be Miami . . with KD and Kawhi. Because Mondays can be for dreaming too.
Monday is Trump in Singapore, in an historic meeting with the dude from that Seth Rogen movie. And like . . . what’s the worst that could happen?
And speaking on Monday . . are we like . . at war with Canada yet? Because I’m not sure whether Trump and Trudeau hate each other or whether they are very much in love. . .
Monday is figuring out why Anthony Bourdain is gone much too soon, and knowing that we’re never gonna figure it out. Because he took all those thoughts and voices that never quit his brain, with him. We were thieved a genuine voice and immense talent. And it happens every day, to names not famous. And sometimes? We just need to be thankful for the time we have.
Monday is being knee deep in a baseball season whose news is going to be stolen away in snippets from now until October. Like with Nadal winning France again and Bob Baffert cementing his status as best trainer ever with Justify’s triple crown win . . and the World Cup coming strong.
Monday is wondering why we need another Jurassic movie, and its realizing because Jeff Goldblum is as good a reason as any.
Monday is letting go of what’s not coming back and taking hold of what’s ahead. It’s making the best of things. It’s putting a face to the name of the moments that are waiting for us. It’s kicking ass, taking names and it’s living as if Monday isn’t Monday at all.
Monday is taking me back to the summer of 1984. Back when I thought Orwell a putz when it came to predictions. Must’ve been the mood.