Monday Morning Blahs

Monday is another day. It is the day following Sunday, generally a day of worship and rest for me, and the beginning of a new week of writing. Most of the time it is no more blah than Tuesday through Saturday.

And then there was this morning.

Ugh.

What made this Monday less-than-exciting? It could have been that I woke up at 3:30 to the call of nature. Except, it’s pretty standard that I will wake up at least once in the wee morning hours for that reason.

The first hint the day was not going to go as planned, I tried to sit up and my back screamed bloody murder. My husband is grateful (I’m sure) that I clenched my teeth so the agonized scream of my old muscles emerged into sound waves as a muffled groan.

You’re welcome, Honey.

It took longer than usual to walk four feet into the bathroom and take care of business. Every slight move from my core seized my lungs as my back caterwauled out displeasure.

When I returned to bed, my cat had curled up on my pillow. He’s been doing this lately. Sometimes, out youngest girl cat will move onto the spot where my body had been moments before. They’re always happy to take the human-warmed spots.

She’d remained huddled next to my husband’s legs, but the slant-eyed look my other cat gave me warned me off trying to relocate him. Truthfully, I didn’t think my body could manage. At least, that’s what my back was whimpering into my ears.

It’s difficult to find a comfortable spot when

• your back is screaming
• a cat’s butt is lodged where you want to pillow your head

As I tried to fall into oblivion, my mind kicked on. I really hate having a writer’s brain sometimes.

Here’s the thoughts that whirred in my head:

• possible titles for the other Christian romances for First Street Church 2018 launches
• list of things I would do when I woke up in the morning (HA! It was morning and I was awake.)
• how to move the cat and earn another couple centimeters of pillow
• replaying conversations with my kids the previous day
• debating a menu for the week
• outlining the known changes I want to make to Virtual Match #3 which I’m revising and polishing this week

and on it went.

The cat finally decided to relocate. I turned to my other side and he curled into my chest. My brain spun into neutral.

And the snoring began. Not from me. Or the cats. Process of elimination gives you…Mr. Wonderful.

I tried to nudge him, but my back seized up and I had to meditate my way back into a state of relaxation.

Eventually, I peered through my eyelids at the luminous numbers on my alarm clock. 4:20.

I maneuvered myself–and my uncooperative back–out of bed, snatched a light blanket and headed to the couch. Curling into a fetal position incited a sigh from the distraught muscles.

As I wondered if I would be able to do my workout that morning, I faded into happy nothingness.

At a few minutes after five, hubbs sat beside me, rubbed my shoulder and said, “I was snoring, huh?”

I rolled off the couch, my back proclaiming that I would NOT being doing the mixed martial arts workout I’d planned, and limped back to my bed. Once there, I cuddled into my husband’s warm pillow and…

My little cat jumped on the bed and stood on my back. Well, my side and back. Then she headed over to attack the fingers peeking out from beneath the pillow.

I did return to sleep. To be awakened around 6:00 by my husband’s ringing cell phone and his conversation held right outside the bedroom door.

I should have just gotten up at 4:20, because I didn’t feel better when I rolled out of bed at 6:25, thinking my husband had left for work without kissing me goodbye (a big no-no around here).

I stumbled around, wincing at every move, calling my old body all sorts of unflattering names.

And realized I didn’t have a blog post in the queue for this morning. I had intended to write one on Saturday, but I was over my head finishing the first draft of Love’s Late Arrival. (I was thinking about some needed additions to it during my early morning should-be-sleeping ponderings.)

There are bathrooms to clean (the Monday chore).

At least the sun is shining. I’m hoping the ibuprofen I took will relieve my back’s simpering enough that I’ll be able to take a walk later today.

The worst part? I’d rather go back to bed. Even after all this proof it won’t make anything better. Maybe I’m planning to sleep until Monday yields to Tuesday.

What makes Monday blah for you? Or is there another day of the week you generally struggle with? Also, any encouraging words for my back problems would be accepted with gratitude.

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