I'll give you a minute to finish rolling your eyes and to rinse out that bit of vomit that just surfaced in the back of your throat. Yes, I understand I'm being a bit touchy-feely this morning, and what a huge juxtaposition the word "joy" is to a Monday morning, and that it's probably too much. But, you guys... YOU GUYS, I can't help it. And no, I'm not PMSing. But thanks for thinking of me and trying to rationalize this sentimentality.
Now don't get me wrong, things can-- and likely will--change as the day progresses and I am forced to deal with some unpleasantness at work. Or even later, when the carousel-from-hell that I call our evening routine begins, but right now...I'm soaking in the last water-colored drops of the weekend that have spilled over into today. I have stored them in my mind like projector slides. Silent, happy, slightly orange toned stills of weekend moments. Single moments. And the whole slide show is set to music. What? What? I'm happy, damnit.
Ella: (to Ethan as they're both running through the house) Giddy up, cowboy!
Ethan: You're killing me.
Ella: (singing to the tune of Jesus loves me...sort of) Ethan's getting no presents from Santa, because the Bible tells me so.
I hope the joy of your weekend has seeped into your morning and has postponed the suckage of a Monday a bit longer.