Every week, roughly 48 hours after you start feeling like a person again, Monday arrives. It doesn’t knock. It lets itself in with a key you never gave it, eats your weekend, and leaves the plate in the sink.
You have questions. Here are the answers, compiled by a team of one, on a Sunday night, out of spite.
Why does Monday keep happening?
Because Sunday ends. That’s the whole mechanism. Scientists spent years trying to stop Sunday ending. The best they managed was “staying up until 2am”, which doesn’t stop Monday. It just means Monday arrives and you’re already losing.
Who approved this?
Nobody remembers. The seven-day week was agreed thousands of years ago by people who had no email and died at 38, so frankly they had less to lose. They did not foresee the 9am “quick sync”. If they had, they’d still have done it. Somebody always profits from your Monday. It’s never you.
Has anyone tried skipping it?
It’s called “calling in sick”. It works exactly once. After that your manager says “feeling better?” in a voice that means your name has been added to a spreadsheet with a column called “Risk”.
Others try “taking Monday slow”. That’s just Tuesday, with guilt, and a meeting about why Monday went badly.
Is Monday actually worse, scientifically?
A study nobody funded, at the Institute of Lower Bramley, asked 400 adults to describe Monday in one word. The top answers were “again”, “already”, and a sigh transcribed as “hhhhhhh”.
The same study found Monday is, on average, 31 hours long. The researchers could not explain this. Their funding was cut on a Monday.
Monday isn’t a day. It’s a weekly reminder that the weekend was a free trial and you’ve been auto-renewed.
Why does Sunday evening feel like Monday’s waiting room?
Because it is. Around 4pm on Sunday, the light changes. Dread settles over the house like a damp duvet. You remember the email you didn’t send Friday. Your work bag looks at you from the corner. It knows what it did.
This is the Sunday Scaries: Monday’s opening act. Nobody came to see it. It always runs long. It is, statistically, a significant chunk of your remaining life.
What about people who say they love Mondays?
They exist. They own a branded fleece and say “fresh week, fresh start!” at 8:52am while you hold your coffee like a hostage negotiator who has lost the hostage.
They will be promoted above you. They will be the one who reads your leaving card out. They will mispronounce your surname.
Can I just treat Monday like a second Sunday?
You can. Your employer will treat it like the first day of your disciplinary process. The employer has the payroll, the lawyers and your replacement’s CV in a folder called “Just in case”.
What’s the best way to survive Monday?
Experts recommend preparing the night before. Lay out your clothes. Pack your lunch. Set two alarms.
Real people recommend lowering expectations until arriving counts as a win. If you’re dressed, you’re winning. If the clothes match, you’re an influencer. If you remembered lunch, you’ve peaked. The rest of the week is the descent.
Will Monday ever stop?
Technically, yes. It’s called retirement. You’ll reach it in roughly 2,000 Mondays, assuming the pension people move the goalposts only twice more and you’re still upright to collect.
After that, Mondays stop permanently. The other way. Everyone gets there. The pension people are counting on it.
Until then: seven days from now. Same alarm. Same email from someone who “just wanted to get this in before the week gets busy”, which is how the week gets busy.
See you there. Nobody’s bringing snacks.