Like a bubble in a glass of champagne

Yeah, that’s how I feel. Floating. Without roots. Just moving on.

There should be a ban on Monday Mornings. They should be made illegal purely for the amount of listless un-enthusiasm they breed, the world over. There is nothing worse than waking up on a Monday morning and wondering why it’s Monday so quick. Or so I thought, until today. Because today, the husband who who I usually turn to for some inspiration to get going on a Monday morning, woke up sulking. What’s worse, he came out of the shower and got back into bed for two whole minutes, thinking aloud, “Why am I feeling this way?” You know there is definitely something wrong when the one person who can kick your Monday Morning Blues to the moon with his attitude, looks like he’s wilting away before your eyes. He, who is usually the epitome of all positivity with his you-cant-escape-it-so-might-as-well-embrace-it attitude, looked forlorn and tired. So that was it. I have decided Mondays must be banned.

Monday’s are officially a pain in the neck. Especially since I discovered this morning, that the sore crick in my neck that I have ignored for two whole days now had gradually turned my neck to what felt like solid stone. To turn, I have to turn my body completely. I have to move with extreme care. And looking up or down? Don’t even think about it. So I have lugged my laptop into bed with me. Doubled up on the muscle relaxant and here I am, wondering what brought it on?

The reasons could be many, and if you know me and my history with strange ailments, while the symptoms are physical, the cause is almost always emotional. It could be the strange posture I caught myself in on Thursday, and in that moment when I straightened up in the office chair, I felt a slight panic thinking about how long I had been unconsciously sitting that way. I could even be the new diwan in my living room that is sorely missing bolsters leading me to recline in all sorts of weird positions. It could be the excessive lugging of groceries up four flights of stairs. It could be all of the above, but I’m leaning towards the silent, namelss cause. The incredible pressure that has suddenly surmounted me. I’m tempted to call it work pressure, but its not. Its an internal self-made pressure, of wanting to achieve something that at the moment feels so unattainable. That it is triggered by events at work, is no mystery. But this past weekend as I powered through my study material, I can’t ignore the fact that I did have a passing thought that sounded kind of like “Why?” And much like I said the other day, I don’t have the answer crystal clear. The only thing that’s keeping me going right now is the fact that I know I wont regret this learning in retrospect. So I power on, hoping that when I look back and connect the dots, this will make sense.

But the thought just won’t leave me. And like it usually is with me, it probably won’t, until I find an answer that can put my heart to rest. And since the discovery of the doodle monster within me (thanks to the last spontaneous doodle), I doodled this again, in an attempt to make some temporary peace (phew, thats a lot of doodle for one sentence), and it kind of worked.

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