I feel like Garfield

It isn't that I hate Mondays. Not at all. Mondays are the days at work when I have the most real work to do, and thus feel somewhat useful and productive. I like that. And Mondays, House is on. Ain't nothin wrong with that. It is just Monday Mornings and I that do not get along. Perhaps because for two days I've been allowed to hear my alarm and instead of hitting snooze, hit DISMISS and snuggle back down into my 8 million pillows and blankets with my pup, and the two of us can sleep till like 9. But then comes Monday Morning, at 4:10, and we must take our meds, and then hit snooze. Then, ten minutes later, we hit snooze again. Then, after the third SNOOZE, we realize, no we are NOT going to get up during the 4th hour, and just re-set the alarm for 5:30. Then 5:30 does come along, and the battle with myself to sit up and rub at my gunky eyes and stretch even though stretching induces yawning, which is terribly painful, and to put on some wooly socks and my fuzzy bathrobe. So that the pup and I can venture down the stairs (hopefully not to be tripped by that ratty cat) and out into the backyard so the pup can do what she needs to do. And while she wanders through the dewy grass, I clomp around in the big LLBean boots and urge her to go faster, especially if the Monday is wet, cold, or in the summer- very mosquito-ey. Sometimes she listens, other days, not a chance. All the while, I am trying to convince my eyelids to stay open. C'mon, can't fall asleep standing up goofball. 

It is a rough start to a week, to be sure.