What a terrible word... Monday. Makes my shoulders and neck tense up just thinking about it. Hearing it makes me want to cry blood. The fleeting ecstasy of the weekend is now just a distant, blurry (alcohol induced) dream. I'm always amazed at the false sense of freedom one experiences during that brief 48-hours away from the ever watchful eyes of the time-clock. No fake smiles, passing head-nods and pretentiousness. Time to restart those repetitive motions of the work-week. Re-lock those shackles of corporate slavery. The rat-race has indeed made me into a rat... which would explain my recent and overwhelming fondness of cheese and unexplainable desire to hoard shiny objects in my desk drawer. For all of you fortunate enough to not be reading this - Have a round on me.
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