Tell me why I don't like Mondays

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At the time those Boomtown Rats were singing about Mondays, it made sense to not like them. Mondays meant school and work and an end to that whole weekend freedom of laziness. It brought structure and schedules, meetings and deadlines. But I don't have to get to work on Monday morning. I don't have to rush to school. I don't have a term paper due in History that I didn't start writing until Sunday night. I have to get The Boy up for school on Monday. Could it be that I miss him? I really don't mind it when he's home - except that he reminds me to make meals, which I could more easily forget to do if it were just The Man and myself. Most of the time, he's busy doing his own thing with his computer, his X-box or he's outside practicing his soccer footwork. And he's handy for when I want something heavy moved from one spot to another and then back again when I realize that room configuration just won't work. He's hardly any trouble except for his appetite. But I think it's more than that. I think I am still suffering Monday morning school avoidance syndrome. It is just that now, it's Monday Morning School Avoidance Syndrome by Proxy. I get nervous about the first day of the school week because others have to go. Too much empathy, perhaps, or a persistent, latent fear that I never managed to shed even when I threw away my school gym uniform. I don't know why, but I still don't like Mondays. I can see no reason, cause there are no reasons. I want to shoot the whole day down. Tell me why.