You smile at the guy in the car opposite you at the stop sign. He returns a cold stare, imagining you're going to challenge his determination to proceed first... so you smile and wave him on and he responds with an accusatory scowl like you've been discovered ingesting heavy doses of Prozac and speeds by until he is ahead of you on a two lane road and he rides the brake in front of you the rest of your way to work. His stops are more like he's decided to park his car.
No matter. Its a beautiful morning. Pretty sunrise. I'm in no hurry. I'm a changed woman. Today is a new day, a new Monday and not only the beginning my week, it is the beginning of a more positive me.
I get to work and walk through the cloud of smoke that hangs at the entrance, billowing from the small group of smokers huddled together behind the parapet, away from the cold wind and I hack out a cheery "good morning" hoping that smell won't hang on me all day.
Inside I stop in the kitchen to make the coffee that I make every single morning before I even make it to my desk so that I can have a cup ready before the morning begins.
The man had slowed me down and by now there is a muster of assembled coworkers blocking path to the coffee pot half full of yesterday's brew . So I contort and I stretch to reach through the crowd to obtain a filter, inch over enough to try and pull a bag of coffee from the drawer two people are staunchly stationed against but I refuse to let my smashed fingers impinge on my brighter outlook.
The filters are a new package and difficult to separate. I step back from the crowd, pull a few from the package and begin to blow on the edges to separate them. Just as I manage to separate 1 filter from the rest someone makes a huge sweeping gesture and suddenly the air is filled with white floating paper butterflies. I begin to scramble around grabbing up the filters and realize that I'm running short on time before I have to clock in. I stuff a filter into the basket and dump in a bag and a half of coffee into the awaiting filter and hit the brew button.
"You're making the coffee too strong"
I smile. "Well, you can add water to it. I need a bit of a jump start this morning. Or you can make the next pot any way you like it, yourself."
"You're only supposed to use one bag." They point to a laminated instruction sheet taped to the cabinet above the coffee maker.
"Do you drink coffee?"
"And your concern is...?"
I check the time as I say this and don't wait for the answer as I have to start up my computer so I can clock in and take care of other necessities before I clock in. I come back to find that the crowd has now gone and I get out my cream and pour myself a very large cup of dark rich hot java. I put the cup to my lips to take a sip and verify I have just the right amount of cream.
"What about everyone else?"
I turn around. She's back. She's offended about coffee that she doesn't drink. I feel my new perspective on life draining. At least the coffee tastes good. "Did you have a good weekend?"
"Someone else might not like it like that."
"Did you see anyone else take a cup but me?"
"Well, I don't think that's the point."
I walk back to my desk mumbling... and wondering exactly what is the point.
I hate Monday's. And now that I think about it, I should have never let that guy pass me this morning. I could have beat the crowd and avoided this whole scene. There's nothing wrong with me. Its just Monday's. I hate Monday's.
Tomorrow will be terrific Tuesday... and I'll leave a little earlier... and stop by a Starbucks on the way in.