Like many working people, Mondays for me were not a time of great joy. The weight of Monday would first start to creep onto my shoulders late on a Sunday afternoons, and by Sunday evening I was in full on dread mode. And on Monday morning, I was essentially a meme.

Last night, I thought, “Tomorrow is Monday,” and I felt hope. Minor anxiety, as well, about part of a story I need to figure out and some tasks I need to accomplish.

But hope, even anticipation? Well, that was new.