RIP weekend

'Twas the night before Monday and all through the house
My kitty went crazy on a catnip-filled mouse.

I looked at him jealous, knowing well the next day
While I dragged myself to work, he'd stay at home and play.

My alarm clock was set with regret and despair
Knowing that the morning would soon be there.

At six a.m. sharp, the radio will blast
Knocking me out of bed and flat on my ass.

Rather than beeping, I'll be greeted by song
Like "Sexual Healing" or something equally wrong.

(It used to be oldies, but my station was dropped
and replaced by "adult contemporary" and terrible pop).

I'll smack the snooze and roll back into bed
And rather than one "snooze" cycle, I'll take 4 instead.

Then the clock will say 7, and I'll begin to panic
while my pokey morning behavior turns borderline manic.

On shower! On toothbrushing! On hairdrying! and more.
Without fail I'll forget something as I run out the door.

Like my lunch or drycleaning or the embarrassment I face
When realizing one armpit of two escaped a shave in my haste.

Let the countdown begin, my weekend is done
So bring on the boredom and pack up the fun.

Here's to all Mondays--there is one in sight.
Happy Monday to all. I hate Sunday night.