Dear Monday:

I realize you feel as though you are the red-headed step child of the Weekday Family, and sometimes you are not given the thanks you deserve. Without you, there would be no Monday Night Football. Without you, Garfield the cat would have nothing to complain about. Without you we wouldn't have ... um ... we wouldn't have ... that song from The Bangles.

Having said that, I have noticed that you seem to be arriving earlier and earlier each week. My clock tells me it's Monday, but my body and my brain never feel as though they've had a full 63 hours of rest. I have reason to believe that you are engaged in some sort of tomfoolery in order to cut the weekend short, and I have a feeling that Sunday night is your accomplice in this trickery.

I appreciate the fact that you are anxious to greet us bright and early and show us all the things Friday didn't get around to completing. (By the way, Tuesday can probably handle half of those things. There's no need to burden yourself with an overload of work.) However, I must request that you put an end to the encroachment of my weekends and return the extra hours at once. Please leave them with Saturday night (I don't trust that sneaky little bastard Sunday) or I will have no choice but to involve Wednesday and Thursday for mediation purposes. (I would call Friday in for assistance, but he thinks he is God's gift to the calendar. He's been insufferable since they opened that blasted restaurant chain.)

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Sincerely,
Me