I woke up early as I did every morning since I started working, showered, shaved, dressed, a cup of coffee, being careful not to awaken my fiancee as I left our apartment, sat in endless traffic, listening to the traffic report on the radio, telling me about the traffic I was in.
I felt like a rat in a maze, like Bill Murray in Groundhog day, the same monotony day in and day out.
Sure I was lucky to get a decent paying job right out of college, but still my tiny cubicle at work was not the life I envisioned as an excited college kid, out to make his mark on the world.
Today wasn’t even payday. Monday. Who invented Monday’s anyway. Some disgruntled angel who was also really bored with his job and decided to create a day to put a stop to a fun weekend of watching sports and eating Nachos.

Elevator door opens and who should be standing there but the project manager. O joy.

“You’re late Parker,” he growled.

The song, Just Another Manic Monday played in my mind and thankfully drowned out the rest of his speech.