In school, we're taught that Saturday ends the week and Sunday starts it. In some ways, I feel this truth. In attending Mass and receiving the Eucharist, I feel that I'm starting the week anew - with a little more grace and a little more everything to get me through the days to come. However, as Sunday evening winds us all down, I feel that the previous week is coming to a proper close. The week ahead is laid out in the form of to-do lists, appointments, bills to be paid, dinners to plan and the frantic running off to school, from school, to lessons, to class and eventually home again, to rest and wake and repeat.
A Monday off? A holiday or snow day to "start" the week? It throws a wrench in things. I'm left feeling that either I'm a day behind for the rest of the week or an unnatural yearning for summer vacation in the middle of a January snow storm. The kids underfoot hamper the normal progression of housework and laundry or I long for these slow mornings at the breakfast table to be our everyday routine. It's the conflict between the two natures of my vocation: the Martha and the Mary.
A Monday off? Drives me nuts.