I don’t believe that Monday is the worst day of the week, but after a Monday like this week’s, I’m willing to reconsider my opinion.
First, my son was on the last two days of summer vacation. While this is a great thing for mommy-son togetherness, this is a bad thing for a writer with two pieces on deadline. During a normal summer day when my son is at home, I can generally get a couple of hours at the desk, but Monday was not normal because my husband was scheduled to work a night shift. Since he was trying to sleep, my son and I tip-toed around the house all afternoon. I thought I’d get to my desk in the evening, about the time my husband left for work. After sleeping for as much of the day as he could, my hubby got up around 3:30 and got ready for work. At 4:00, his job was cancelled. It felt funny to be at my desk when he was sitting downstairs trying to figure out what to do with himself. I decided I would just work at night as I normally do after my husband and child go to bed. At 8:00, I was ready to tuck in my son. That’s when I noticed his pet mouse had died.
I’ll admit that I briefly considered not saying anything. Then I thought about how awful it would be if he found poor Mousey. “Honey, I think Mousey died,” I said, prompting a flood of tears from my eight-year-old.
I checked on my husband, who was watching TV in bed as though it was a typical evening. His sleep-wake clock is now seriously askew. “Mousey died,” I told him, followed by cursing. Clearly I wasn’t going to be working anytime before 10:00 p.m.
I didn’t have the heart to abandon my crying son (who immediately lobbied for a new pet – request denied), so I invited him to come downstairs and watch television for a little while. After an hour of America’s Funniest Home Videos, he was recovered enough to go to his room. I wasn’t done writing until 2:00 a.m.
It remindins of this Stephen King quote: “Life isn’t a support-system for writing. It’s the other way around.”