Journey through days of week not easy

They always talk about blue Mondays like they are a bad thing, but then we get around to Friday and it’s like everyone is thinking TGIF.

I’m not sure what is the worst day of the week.

They always talk about blue Mondays like they are a bad thing, but then we get around to Friday and it’s like everyone is thinking TGIF (thank goodness it’s Friday).

That’s how I felt last Friday.

On that day, it seemed like my brain could only absorb that one thought!

TGIF.

I dragged my sorry little self home and gracefully retired to my bed even before I could fall asleep on the couch while the opening credits of some Netflix movie flashed on and off the screen.

I managed to rouse myself Saturday with some semblance of my usual get up and go, simply because I am the grandma of a future NHL star and I had to make it to the arena by 9 a.m. to encourage him to keep skating really hard for about another10 years and not to let that little girl in a pink helmet who is also seven and on his team keep hogging the puck.

Anyway, my get up and go got up and went as soon as the three 20 minute periods ended and my future NHL star and his mom and his brothers all went to Tim Horton’s to be treated to those really delicious donuts with icing and sprinkles.

Not me, of course. I sipped my black coffee mournfully mentally calculating how many calories such a donut would carry inside its sinfully decorated self. I figured it out, but still my eyes were glued to the eye candy and I finally snuck a small bite of the baby’s donut. (what kind of grandma does that?)

By Sunday, I felt much better, so much better, so much more alive. I decided to go the gym.

I arrived early. It was only about 6:30 a.m. and here I was off to the gym just like the self-disciplined type person whom I know lives inside me somewhere. Wow! This is awesome, I think, momentarily forgetting I was also the type of person who would steal part of a candy-coated donut from a baby.

I notice there is no one else at the gym and I feel good.

Pumped. I will have the whole gym to myself, I think gleefully. I like it when that happens.

I bound up the steps and get my access card ready to swipe. It was then I looked in the glass door.

There was nothing there. The entire gym was gone. Apparently, it had moved.

What? I refuse to feel elated, instead choosing to feel mad. What kind of gym is this? Moving on me, when I’m all ready to pump some iron.

My mad feeling stays with me for about two and a half seconds.

Actually, I’m elated.

I don’t have to work out! Yeah! Someone moved the gym.

I can go home and drink coffee or, better yet, go back to bed.

I can hardly believe my luck.

As it so happened, the gym moved to a new location over the weekend and it is now back in full service, thank you very much.

I was there this morning, grudgingly back to the old routine. Treadmill, weights, blah, blah, blah! Welcome to Monday.

I force myself to stay on the treadmill until I have burned 100 calories which seems to take until Tuesday. Today, however,as I was treading along on the treadmill, some dear, sweet lady came along and said, “ma’am, did you know your shoelaces are untied? I don’t want you to trip.”

I mustered up some dignity and said, “of course, I know, but I can’t quit running or I will lose my calorie count and have to start over.”

She looked at me in sympathy and shook her head and walked away and I reluctantly pressed ‘stop.’

Mondays! What a way to start the week!