Do not tell me you all do not feel this, every Sunday night around 10 p.m. or so, that awful dread that is the coming of Monday morning. You could be the garbage man, a drunken Lindsay Lohan or the President of the United States and it just hits you, crap, its Monday and I have reports to shred.
So, take heart, that man on the train with you is feeling the same thing, which is why you all have that glum looks on your faces. Or it could be he has been drinking too much Hennessey, but its best if we all just think that its the fog of Monday, not him hearing voices.
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