Thick and gray, layered-looking clouds cloak my little view along California’s north coast this early Monday — creates a gray, unimaginative wet perspective.
Indeed, the NWS says maybe some light drizzle later today, and rain maybe tonight, but all rests on the word, ‘maybe,’ as weather is not way-totally predictable, especially this close to the shoreline’s erratic ocean breezes.
Sunshine feasible through perhaps the middle of next week, conceivably.

Since retirement last August, the weekday, working-bloke’s sense of a ‘Monday‘ has slowly shifted from a choking, spitting scream, to a cry of relief — weekends actually suck when they stand alone.

(Illustration found here).

As manager of Cask-n-Flask Liquors here in Mckinleyville, the job was Monday-through-Friday as normal the routine for most employed folks — most-all in reality, “living for the weekend” — but upon retirement, those weekdays became as if weekend-days. In the first couple of months of so, I had much-difficulty in keeping days-of-the-week straight. Everyday felt like Saturday for a long time, or Sunday, which was more dumb and made sorting out the matter even worse.
Sundays are the odd, idiot-quiet day of the week, which in turn made Monday even more of a choking scream and the blunt of exhilarating indignation.

In my 50 years of gainful employment, most of my jobs were what’s generally called ‘shift work,’ where the schedule could run the full clock and calendar. Most shift-work people live outside the normal, mainstream flow of living, usually due to the freakish hours, and sometimes even in the job itself.
As an air traffic controller in the Air Force (back in the Vietnam era), all duty times were in shifts, 24/7-365, and my first journalism job was as a police reporter, working late at night and into mornings.
And I’d spent way-too-much time in the food service industry, both as restaurant owner, and as many-times cook/bottle washer — labor in that particular business works weird shifts (‘meanest’ work ever).

Mondays don’t work as Mondays anymore. Now I don’t particularly enjoy weekends. There’s too many people and vehicles out at 9 a.m. on a Saturday — and people act goofy during weekends. Life is just not serious enough. Or there’s some kind of frantic, crazed, don’t-care-attitude found amongst folks during Saturday and Sunday, when joined together as one unit, a phenomenon that’s kind of creepy.
Even on the Internet, less blog posts, less newsworthy analysis or even news, unless it’s a breaking massacre, ugly accident, or as in the current trend, videos of cops killing people — shit just got to wait until Monday.
During most of my employment life, I worked weekends — in fact, my schedule at the liquor store before being manager was just a clerk, and my ‘weekend‘ was Wednesday and Thursday.
My Monday was most-everybody’s Friday.

A metaphorical concept that was fine with me — and even still.