Mondays get a lot of hate. And, when you consider it practically, I guess some of that hate is pretty justified. It’s the end of the weekend and there are five more days of work to get through before getting any glimmer of Saturday’s promise. Then there’s the steady stream of Houston traffic to look forward to in the morning and knowing that everyone around you looks as much like a rotten corpse as you feel doesn’t help matters much.

For me though, Mondays have always been accompanied by a steady stream of excitement, a “let’s do this” vibe that somehow propels me through the week.

As crazy as it may sound, I’m not really a weekend person. Sleeping in on Saturdays turns me into more of a Grinch than usual and the concept of boredom is one that’s hard for me to handle–after all, there’s only so much activity you can squeeze into a weekend and while the downtime to chill with Netflix is entertaining, even that entertainment grows stale if stretched over too long a break.

I appreciate the weekends but when I want my energy back, it’s Mondays that I turn towards.

Mondays are when I look forward to seeing the craziness of the weekend straighten itself out, for life to fall into the more formulaic, predictable route I’m accustomed to. It’s covertly a way for me to sneak back under the warmth of my comfort zone blanket.

Not to mention, getting back into the full swing of meeting with classmates, peers, getting some actual work done and just knowing I’m busy all day makes me feel better than anything.

Of course, Monday has it’s more unsavory aspects too. I’m not insane enough to love lounging in the lines of traffic along I-10 as I struggle to make it to UH in time for my morning classes. And heaven forbid if some professor decides that an exam will add an even more auspicious start to our Monday morning.

But these things aside, I still believe that there’s a certain unbeatable charm in our run-down concept of Mondays and it helps me get through the week.