If Mondays Were a Person

If Mondays Were a Person

By: [Abdullah]

If Mondays were a person, they’d be the type of neighbor who borrows your lawnmower and returns it three months later with a suspicious smell and only two wheels. They wouldn’t wave when you pass by. They’d just nod—slowly—like they know something you don’t, and that something is that your week is already doomed.

Let’s be clear: Monday isn’t the villain you choose. Monday is the villain you inherit. You didn’t elect them, you didn’t invite them, and yet they appear at your doorstep every single week, wearing a smug grin and a wrinkled suit that smells faintly of burnt coffee and regret.

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Monday’s Appearance

If Mondays were a person, they’d be perpetually underdressed and overdressed at the same time. Imagine an ill-fitting beige suit with a coffee stain shaped like a broken dream. Their tie? Crooked. Their hair? The sort of bedhead you get not from sleeping, but from tossing and turning while existential dread dances through your brain at 3:14 a.m.

They’d carry a briefcase, but not a sleek one—an old, scuffed thing held together with duct tape. Inside? Paperwork no one asked for: overdue bills, meeting agendas, and motivational posters that somehow make you feel worse.

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Monday’s Personality

If Mondays were a person, they’d be that coworker who starts sentences with, “Not to ruin your day, but…” and then proceeds to ruin your day.

They’d greet you with a chipper, “Good morning!” that sounds less like a wish for you to have a good morning and more like a binding curse. They’d tell you about their weekend in excruciating detail—how they “finally cleaned out the garage” or “tried that new kale smoothie”—while you’re still trying to remember your own name through the fog of sleep deprivation.

Monday thrives on awkward silences. They bring up topics no one wants to discuss, like the company’s new cost-cutting policy or how you really should drink more water. They have the rare talent of turning any room’s energy from “slightly optimistic” to “existential despair” in under three minutes.

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Monday’s Habits

If Mondays were a person, they’d set their alarm for 4:45 a.m. just because they can. They’d knock on your door exactly one minute before your own alarm, holding a to-do list that’s 47 items long, with at least 10 urgent tasks labeled “yesterday.”

They’d insist on scheduling all the worst things for their day: dentist appointments, performance reviews, and that one meeting that could have been an email. Monday wouldn’t just bring rain; they’d also schedule it for the exact moment you forget your umbrella.

And Monday never pays for coffee. They always say, “I’ll get you next time,” but “next time” never comes.

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Why We Can’t Avoid Monday

Here’s the thing—if Mondays were a person, you could, in theory, block their number, ignore their texts, and move to another country. But no matter what you do, Monday has a key to your house and knows your Wi-Fi password.

They’re like a sitcom character who keeps barging into the room uninvited—except instead of delivering a funny one-liner, they deliver a stack of problems and a lukewarm cup of instant coffee.

And unlike bad friends, you can’t “break up” with Monday. They’re in your life forever, a contractual obligation written into the universe. You can run, but they will always find you… probably while you’re still in your pajamas.

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The Rare Good Monday

Sometimes—rarely—Monday shows up in a decent mood. They bring donuts. They crack a joke that actually makes you laugh. For a fleeting moment, you think, “Maybe Mondays aren’t so bad after all.”

But then, without warning, they remind you that your car insurance is due, your fridge is empty, and your inbox is full. That’s Monday’s greatest trick: giving you hope just so they can watch it wither like a houseplant in a dark closet.

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If We Could Talk to Monday

If I could sit down with Monday, I’d have a few questions. Why do you have to be like this? Why can’t you be more like Friday, who shows up with snacks and good news? Or Saturday, who lets us sleep in and doesn’t judge us for eating breakfast at noon?

Monday would probably adjust their crooked tie, take a sip of your coffee without asking, and say, “I’m just doing my job.”

And maybe that’s the truth. Monday doesn’t mean to be cruel; it’s just here to remind us that life isn’t all lazy Sundays and Netflix binges. Monday is the reality check no one wants but everyone gets—like a yearly tax bill, but weekly.

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Final Thoughts

If Mondays were a person, they’d never win “Most Popular” or “Best Dressed,” but they’d definitely win “Most Persistent.” They’d be the unwelcome guest who always overstays their welcome, but deep down, we know we can’t function without them.

Because for all their flaws, Monday is the reset button. The necessary evil. The reminder that no matter how bad last week was, there’s a brand-new week ahead—one where maybe, just maybe, we’ll get things right.

Still, I’ll keep my coffee close and my expectations low. Because Monday’s knocking, and they’re wearing that crooked tie again.