I've got a real case of the Mondays. Some might say that that is an incredibly corny way of saying that "I'm tired and over it," and to that, I say, you're absolutely correct. I am here to reclaim dad culture by self-diagnosing myself with a bonafide case of the day of the week Garfield the cat hates most.
I think I hate Mondays more now that I'm an adult. When I was in college, I was doing homework all the time anyways, so it didn't matter as much what day of the week it was. As far as I could tell, any day could be Monday. Now, I am starting to really feel the Sunday Scaries in a new way. Starting at 6 PM on Sunday evening, the symptoms of the Mondays start to take hold until I am simply unrecognizable from my weekend self.