My Monday begins when I want it to. When I have nosedived into a fresh, new book and read a few pages of it sipping tea. When I have scribbled a couple of lines sitting on the terrace, taking in muddy grey-blue-yellow skies. Monday begins when the weekend langor stops letting out the slow weepy wail, "Just a little bit longer." After I have limbered up with a few yoga stretches - the kind of stretches that ease away Sunday evening indulgences. After I have listened to every chirp of a bird, looked at every flirty copper-pod on a tree and felt, "Yes. I've got stuff to do."
My Monday begins when I want it to.
My Monday begins when I want it to.
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