“I couldn’t help but wonder… do Mondays hate us as much as we hate them?”

My inner Carrie Bradshaw is showing again. As I pace back and forth with a handful of completely unrelated items — dog leash, leftover receipt, probably a screwdriver I don’t remember picking up — my fingers decided they were done holding stuff and wanted to do something else… write.

So here I am.Instead of unpacking another box or online-shopping my way into a fresh set of “I totally needed this for the house” purchases, I’m typing. I haven’t had this urge in a long time. Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s the new front porch with the way the sunlight hits just right. Either way: we’re back, baby.

Mondays in my world? Not so much a fresh start as they are just another day to catch up on yesterday. Or last week. Or my entire adulthood.

Right now, I’m snuggled under my favorite blanket (which I finally found, thank you moving gods), tapping away at the keyboard. Consider this your pre-warning: there’s absolutely no rhyme or reason today. If you came here for a motivational post about crushing goals, or a rant about my growing to-do list, congratulations — you’re barking up exactly the right tree.

Because after the major win of closing on this house, of course nothing comes easy. I’ve been moving in around contractors — including one I’m currently playing phone tag with. Coincidence? I think not.

Today started off a little differently. Instead of my usual 4 a.m. pop-up-like-a-toast run, I actually stayed in bed until 5. That’s a huge accomplishment in my world, and I blame (or thank) finally sleeping on a mattress again. It’s the little things we take for granted, right?

I made my standard run to Norfolk stupid early so I could snag more of the remaining stuff — my weird little ritual. I like driving when no one’s on the road, so I can speed home with my car full of random “necessities,” still making it back at a decent hour. So far? This plan’s been foolproof.

Once everything is finally in the house, I plan on sharing photos. Until then, here’s a tiny teaser: the view of my future “front porch chronicles.” Because believe it or not, there’s already some tea to spill from Mallory Street.And by drive by, I mean legit driving by — waving, smiling, and welcoming me to the neighborhood.

This past weekend was great. Friday, I had a small get together for the Fourth plus a little toast to the new house — and managed to completely fall asleep during it. Thankfully, I have amazing friends like Emily and Eric who cleaned up and locked up for me. Embarrassing? A little. Sad I wasted the time? Sure. But yo girl was apparently exhausted.

Saturday, I hit a plant store and bought six gorgeous new plants for the house (because obviously that’s what you do when you already have boxes everywhere). Sunday, I spent the day soaking up the sun — watching Eric and Sam put in new fence poles, heading to POC with Nathan and his friends, then meeting up with everyone plus Emily and Eric at Stuft. We wrapped up the day exactly how I love it: on the front porch, talking about life. It was just… a really good weekend.

Looking forward to this week, I’ve got dinner with my mom planned. We talked about having Sallie join us, and I just called Kathy to invite her too. The rest of the week? I’ll be working. Because honey — two mortgages and credit card bills are not my friend this next month or so. But no worries, we got this.

And yet… there’s something seductively hopeful about a Monday. A blank page. Another chance to get it right. To chase a dream, finish the damn unpacking, walk the dogs without accidentally falling on my face.

So this Monday, I’m choosing to channel Carrie — a little chaotic, wildly hopeful, and always ready to turn a mishap into a punchy one-liner. Because maybe Mondays aren’t so bad after all… they’re just misunderstood.