The Loh Life is writer/performer Sandra Tsing Loh's weekly take on life, family, and pop culture in early 21st century Southern California.
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Stormy Mondays: Sundae Solutions-- part 2

Sandra Tsing Loh's daughter hates Mondays.

There are two kinds of PEOPLE in this world.

The optimists and the pessimists--

The glass half FULLS and the glass half EMPTY’S--

Or, put another way, the People Resigned to Mondays Being Mildly Fatiguing, versus the People Who

Consider the Advent of Each New Monday a Catastrophic Event.

My nine year old daughter SUZY is of the LATTER camp.

Suzy hates MONDAYS with such an INTENSITY that it recently provoked an emergency philosophical DISCUSSION. It occurred where such discussions OFTEN do in LA families, which is to say on a weekday MORNING at 7:15, whizzing along the freeway, with Suzy and her sister in the back, and their AUNT Tati weighing in on speakerphone.

“When I was a kid,” admits Aunt Tati, “what I dreaded MOST was Sunday AFTERNOONS, just sitting there in the living room and THINKING about the horror of Monday—

“But hey, not everyone is LIKE that,” Tati continues. “What amazes me about your Uncle Peter—” Her affable scientist HUSBAND-- “Is how he’ll just yawn on Monday morning and say, ‘Monday—I’m tired--oh well,’ but that’s as far as he GOES, he JUST moves on to the next thing—“

“Which is getting on his BIKE at like 6 a.m. and riding 45 minutes to work in the dark!” I exclaim. “If I had to do that just ONCE in my life I would jump off a cliff!”

Suzy’s older sister MADDY shrugs, continuing to read her book. She used to dread PE on Mondays, but in her performing arts middle school PE is now DANCE, so she TRULY hasn’t GIVEN it a second thought.

“For ME,” I say, “when that alarm goes off, at 6 o’clock on a Monday morning? It’s not just Monday.

Not to exaggerate—although emotionally it’s pretty real to me-- When that hideous alarm goes eh-eh-eh! it’s more like I’ve woken up on the dark side of Pluto, like in the sci-fi movie OUTLAND starring Sean Connery.

I’m an indentured slave, on Pluto, in this grim MINING colony, and for the next 16 hours all I have to look forward to is plunging my pickaxe into solid rock, in the inky eternal blackness, hearing nothing but Chink! Chink! Chink!

“Which is why I drink coffee!” I say, swerving to a sudden, cheerful finish.
We decide that the solution, for Suzy anyway, will be the institution of CPK Mondays, where dinner OUT will culminate in a ritual 99 cent M&M SUNDAE—

And so we are all fine again. At least for six more days.