Manolo says, one of the saddest mathematical formulas of all…
Monday + You + Desk = The End of Yet Another Weekend.
Remember when you were the little girl and you dreamed of growing up to be the prima ballerina/big animal veterinarian who was married to David Cassidy (or Merrill Osmand) and lived on the fifty acre horse ranch located in Central Park? (Actually, you lived in the Plaza, like Eloise. The ranch was across the street.)
And then you wonder…whatever happened to David Cassidy? And so you Google him up and there he is! With the horses and the age-appropriate wife, and he seems uxorious.
And look! He is touring. And so you immediately begin to lay plans to go to Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania (wherever that is) in February. And you email you best girlfriend ever, Melissa, and start thinking about your outfit, as only the best will do for your former fantasy husband!
Pennsylvania in February? You will need fabulous boots…from Prada!
Sophisticated, worldly, intellectual Prada.
And the next thing you know you are singing to yourself, and you think that Mondays are perhaps not so bad after all.
This morning I woke up with this feeling
I didn’t know how to deal with
And so I decided to myself that I just hide it to myself
And never talk about it and didn’t I go and shout it
When you walked into the room
I think I love you, I think I love you.