You would think since tomorrow is the last Monday I'll ever be working, I wouldn't have my typical Sunday evening blues tonight. It's no secret. I hate Mondays. I especially hate Monday mornings, and most people at work (at least the smart ones) know not to try and talk to me until lunchtime on Mondays.
I hate Mondays because inevitably during the weekend, I didn't accomplish everything I wanted to accomplish before starting the new workweek. I hate Mondays because it seems so very long away from Friday. I hate Mondays because I slept in on Saturday and Sunday and so it is really hard for me to get up on time on Monday morning. I hate Mondays because I ALWAYS weigh a couple pounds more on Monday morning than I did on Friday morning.
But you would think I would be bouncing off the walls with happiness tonight since tomorrow is my last Monday of gainful employment. I'm not, and I'm not sure why.
For one thing, I don't believe it. Yes, I've been talking about retirement incessantly since last May, but I have to say, it still doesn't feel real. Of course I know it is real, Friday is my last day as a working stiff. But it doesn't feel like it's actually true. I really do not believe it.
I guess the reality that I am not indispensable is also settling in. I've done this job for over 17 years now, and very much enjoyed operating under the delusion that only I could do the job THIS well. Not so, many, many people can do this job AT LEAST as well as I have (and most likely better!) It's sad but true; I am dispensable.
I am hoping that Mondays will soon become my very favorite day of the week. That will be the day that everyone ELSE has to go to work except me. And maybe next Sunday night I will even believe that I am, indeed, retired.