Monday, an institution

I have a number of friends who’ll most likely agree with me that Mondays are universally best described by the word “blegh”. Or “ick”. Or, just a mono-syllablic groan. 

I tend for the latter, especially since I’ve had no “good morning” cup of coffee or a spinach-and-feta croissant today and am not likely to have one until the 25^th of this month.  

Where do I start to have discourse on the litanies of what Monday brings with its post-weekend, post-idyll wibbles? Yes, and the word “wibble”. It’s a kind of combination of “wail” and “quibble” and is a perfect way to sum up those how you express yourself over those little events that all conspire to ruin the start of an otherwise innocuous week. 

Of course, eventually the good stuff that happened is all forgotten, along with annoyances such as losing your driver’s licence somewhere in Obz, having the computer at home go on the fizz or running out of money with another week to go before payday, when you get stuck into the nonsense that makes up your week. 

You get by, somehow. And the next thing you know, you’ll be back at Monday **groan**.