Every Monday mornings are alike. The ideas still hazy with sleep, the bag that I still have not prepared, the mail that I have not looked at things from a delayed weekend to another airport and its pale stone and gray, then the ring road rage. And the road. The road to a week long and dreary. I count the hours, days, weeks and months, hoping to work closer to home next year. Pending this long freaking time on Monday ... 
0 comments:
Post a Comment