Illustration via Pepper and Buttons.
Last Sunday Séb announced to me that on Monday, I was going to have the most depressing day of the year.
Merci chéri?
"What the hell are you talking about, you're going to have the most depressing day on Monday!" I bit back.
With a chuckle, Séb who has the patience of a saint, even when my New York bitch claws come out, shared with me something called Blue Monday. And here I thought it was just a song by New Order. Blue Monday is a pseudoscience theory that states that Janurary 21st has been defined as the most depressing day of the year as a result of lack of energy and motivation, the need to see the results of our new year resolutions, and disappointment over goals not yet being actualized. The concept has since been challenged and debunked by scientists as merely post holiday blues used a marketing campaign for a travel company. Yet some still believe its "power". My fiancé included.
While I wouldn't exactly call last Monday depressing, there was something a bit off about it. It went a little something like this...
I woke up with yet another cold of this winter season. We're going on cold number four here. I keep telling my kids to stop sneezing on me, as well as have made painstaking efforts in trying to teach them the vampire technique of sneezing into inside of your elbow (aka your cloak) to prevent passing germs like you would with your hands. Per usual, they just look at me and at some point in the day, sneeze again, hands-free, on or near my face.
Kids.
Not wanting to take a sick day, because of the frequency of these colds I have to learn to persevere through them in hopes of building up some sort of a resistance. So off to work I went through the slush, ice and wintery mix that was gracing the city. It was still extremely picturesque with the gorgeous background of Paris. I would take a wintery mix here any day over one in Brooklyn, where the slush would begin to smell like dumpster juice after a day.
On this particular Blue Monday (if you want to call it that), I'm just going to come out and say it: my kids were beyond annoying. It was evident that they had spent a better part of the weekend indoors due to the weather and have used their time with me to release their energy. They were violently kicking toys across the room, singing their new favorite song "I Like To Move It" in resonant volumes, screaming bloody murder if a purple marker touched their paper because 'only girls' use purple markers, and with a mouth already stuffed with cookies, demanding another one while spitting out chewed up cookie bits onto the table. I am usually very gentle and patient with them, but on Monday my irritation was obvious.
Thankfully yesterday I had the day off due to a teacher's strike (no, I'm was included in it) and was able to sleep off my cold. As the parents came to pick up their children, I confirmed one last time with each of them that I would not be teaching after school English the following day. Waiting for my last student Thomas to be picked up his father, I had him ready in his Zadig and Voltaire cashmere hoodie, navy blue rubber Wellington boots, and his Sonia Rykiel puffy coat. When he arrived, like the other parents, I had mentioned the strike and that I would not be seeing them until Thursday. And then what happened next, I did not expect... He wanted to know if I wanted to get a drink across the street to discuss it. Discuss what? It was pretty simple that I was not coming in and that we'd all reconvene on Thursday. What more was there to discuss?
Furthermore, I wasn't going to a bar with my student who is a baby with his completely un-single father. Next level creepiness, if you ask me.
Overtly stunned, I declined his offer and charged away, looking for my belongings. I wanted what was happening to just go away. Tout effing suite. "Oh you Americans with your frontiers!" he said with a smirk that was almost belying how inappropriate his request was. "Frontiers? I think the word you're looking for is boundaries," I said, shoving my arm in my coat sleeve that seemed to be twisted and was denying my desperate arm access, before adding, "And I love them."
"Okay, ça va" he said with a shrug before picking up Thomas, "Ready to go, To-To?" With that, the three of us awkwardly walked down six flights of stairs together.
Not wanting to jump to any conclusions about his proposal, I couldn't help but find it a bit absurd. Perhaps I am an American who recognizes the importance of boundaries, but like Father o' Thomas said, ça va.
What would have made it a true Blue Monday would have been to slip on the ice on my way home, but that would have taken the day to Rom Com territory, and even the "almighty" whomever that is doesn't have it in her/him to be that cliché.
In all fairness, was my Monday depressing? Not really. Annoying as merde? Absolutely.
I hope you all had a much better slushy and icy Monday than I did! Now off to the pharmacie for more meds...
