Long weekends are that classic example of a catch-22, providing you with the sort of reprieve you feel should occur on a weekly basis but is instead merely doled out on token holidays like 4th of July and Labor Day. And while you may enjoy that luxuriant three day respite, Monday morning creeps up faster than a frat boy ejaculates.
In spite of all the fun you had, all the alcohol you consumed and all the food you shouldn’t have eaten as you lounged around idly, none of it is any match for the hell of dragging your body to work on Monday, where all the bullshit and frivolity continues to await. You wonder if the weekend ever even happened, or if it was an elaborate fantasy you concocted as a necessary delirium to preserve your sanity (again, the office world cultivates many catch-22s).