The daily prompt suggests that we invent a holiday that everyone can celebrate. There’s already one in place for the working population at least that I thought I would reveal. Actually, I’m not sure if that’s the right word because everyone has heard about Mondayitis but nobody speaks of it. And if you’ve ever had a case of Mondayitis yourself, you don’t exactly celebrate it. Because, and it’s not widely known, but Mondayitis is not really a holiday, more a disease that arrives every Sunday evening to plague you. Hard as you try to shake it, it clings on until the Friday afternoon of the next week.
It’s a mystery to you and to everyone who has ever been struck down with it. Mondayitis is more of a mystery than the common cold. There’s bound to be a Nobel Prize in it for someone clever enough to follow the clues and find a cure.
You’ve been out on the town with your friends on Friday then Saturday, not giving Monday a second thought. You sleep in on Sunday, have brunch, then laze away the rest of the day, reading, snoozing and catching up on world events. Come Sunday evening you set your alarm clock and lay out your work clothes for the next day. Soon after that and without notice you double over with a stomach cramp, or develop a sniffle or a migraine. It’s something different every Sunday.
You call your boss first thing Monday morning. ‘I’m not well, ‘Boss’, you croak. I think the lurgy’s got me. The boss plays his part and sympathises. ‘Take care,’ he says,’ see you tomorrow.’ You will, you answer, then hang up, turn over in bed and go back to sleep.