And we find ourselves, as per the usual, back again at Monday.

Today wasn’t quite as intense as last Monday.  Work still felt like I was wading through quicksand — really difficult and really slow.  But I didn’t shake all day.  I got things done, slowly and quietly crossing things off the list.

As I was driving home, listening to my most favorite app, audible.com, I began to think about who I am as a person. Don’t worry.  It didn’t come out of left field — it started with my upcoming business trip.  A quick trip to LA to eat some good food and help to bring shape to our newest restaurant concept.

We’re staying at a very nice hotel.  Apparently, it has quite the pool scene (I imagine the MTV beach house — but that’s probably my imagination and my age).  No spa though.  According to the website, it’s 2 miles from a lot of things.  I’m sort of at a loss as to what I’m going to do with all my free time.

This is where the afore-mentioned thought process began.

I’m a girl — woman, whatever — who listens to books about King Arthur on audible.  I’m not listening to the ‘cool’ books, or the ‘trendy’ books.  I’m listening to historical fiction or gentle portraits of a human’s life.  There’s nothing edgy about me,  I watch Newsroom on repeat, am currently binge-watching Madam Secretary [and wondering why I don’t do work every day that has a bigger impact on the American experience], and I love LoTR, Star Wars, Batman and Rocky. I go to bed before 9.30pm most nights.  I like to talk about football, current events, history, food and books.  I have never done drugs.  Like, for real and I went to school for theatre and have been in the restaurant business more than half my life.

And I’m okay with all of that.  I like me, I like the things I like — I find comfort in the choices I make and the things I enjoy.  I’m not delusional enough to think that any of it makes me cool, or trendy, or cutting edge (which would help out in the business that I’m in).

But sometimes, I feel like a square peg in a round hole.  As though I’m in a world and profession in which I don’t belong.  My husband listens to my rambles and attributes it to my occasional, intense struggles with SAD.  I’m not sure what it is — maybe just having a moment of detachment,  Who can say for sure?

Maybe I’m just having a case of the Mondays.  And that’s okay, right?