I have never understood those calendars which start the week with Monday. I can accept that some faiths consider Saturday to be the Sabbath; and some believe that the Sabbath falls on Sunday. But our work week starts on Monday and I’m not conceding that work constitutes life.
So I have arrived at the start of my week. The holiday has come to a close. The little black Kia pulled out of the driveway. Dishes stand in the sink; the remains of a hastily assembled breakfast shared with my son. Truth told, I still have not cleaned the cast-iron pans from yesterday’s brunch. They can wait.
In the coming week, I will start the last month of my second year of striving to live complaint-free. On Friday, my office suite will have its Holiday Open House. The weather folks predict more ice. My new shower will get tiled. I will start the last purge of clothes preparatory to arranging the new closet which will be done in a couple of weeks. I might even divest my refrigerator of a twenty-three-year magnet collection and slide the pictures from my inspiration board.
I’ll be ready to start fresh when the year ends. I have one more month of my (second) Year Without Complaining. I intend to make good use of it.