I hate Mondays...I love Mondays

Premessa: I used to love Mondays. Mostly out of the fantastic feeling of post-weekend chill, being refreshed and charged by sleep, music, fresh air and the lot.
Nowadays, I don't like Mondays very much...The weekend is definetely not long enough, and I don't get enough sleep, and clearly being here means working a lot more even on Saturdays and Sundays, if only to keep the place clean (Mission: Impossible, seen as every day after work I come home and find something that need to be cleaned - usually the stove and kitchen counter...) (seriously, I am dreaming of the day I will go to the kitchen and find it the way I've left it in the morning...).
Also, the weekend means...a confusing feeling of need to go out, breathe air, see places, take pictures, and stay in, watch tv till I become one thing with the sofa, read till I go blind, sleep till I get sick of the horizontal position...
In the end, I am back to the feeling of hating Sundays. As Leopardi said, Saturday is the real joy: that exciting feeling of freedom, of endless free time to spend, of things to do, of relax and...ok, generally freedom. And Sunday simply means preparing for the week to come, looking at the time as hours pass and open the way to another intense, frantic, exhausting week.

So Monday is cool, because I am back on track, my walk to Hove, a new challenge in school for new students (3 Japanese, a Colombian, and yet another Turkish in my class today...), that hyper feeling that keeps me going...
And Monday is bad, because I am back on track, walk all the way to Hove, try to keep a bunch of yawning students interested, and be prepared for more yawning students who will probably be the wrong level for my class (usually they are too high, and go straight to reception after my class, complaining that they find it too slow and boring: IT'S NOT MY FAULT!....The fault is all in that almost annoying girl who should be in elementary, but because she spent 3 months there, direction decided to move her up, and because everything I do is too difficult for her, I must juggle to find things that she can do and things that will keep the other interested...boy, am I earning my place in heaven).

I guess I could go on for hours, but finally I know why I don't like Mondays too much: because they come after a usually lovely weekend with my piccolino, spent walking, watching tv, talking, laughing, window-shopping, cuddling, drinking tea and sharing food, holding him, being with him.

Mondays mean a painful countdown to another beautiful weekend with my piccolino...