My Mondays have a whole new shape to them, since I totally gave up on making plans to do anything on any Monday ever, for the rest of time. This arrangement allows me to (a) get my work done, and (2) not stress over how many hours there are in the work day. It used to seem like four, when I needed twelve. Now it seems like twelve, although I only need eight. Or nine, or ten. But not twelve, not really.

That’s true even on a day like today, when the phone started ringing before I had my voice. In fact, it’s especially true on a Monday like this one. There were no real crises, but there were a million minor annoyances that had to be dealt with. It’s so much easier to do that when I’m not thinking about how I’m going to have to rearrange the other things I’d planned to do. There are no other things, so my focus isn’t fractured, and I can deal better. It’s always better if I sound like a person who’s in control of his senses when I’m on the phone with the Boss.

For some people, of course, everything is a crisis. Everything that happens, or might happen, or will probably never happen but can at least be conjured in the dark recesses of the paranoid mind. All crisis, all the time. The Boss is one of those people. He used to be one, anyway, and still is to the extent that the voices allow him to be. It’s easier to talk him down than it once was, which is another reason Mondays (and other days) are not as stressful as they might be.