The Mondayest of all Mondays is the Monday after vacation.

I woke up this morning to that very Monday. But I love Mondays. Really, I do.

I used to hate them, going through the weekend all woe-is-me with the S’Mondays encroaching and ruining my Sunday evenings, as if to add insult to injury.

Then I realized that Monday morning is the secret weapon superpower. It’s the found time we all want. It’s the free prize inside of the week, and it’s been sitting right in front of our noses this whole time. While everyone was busy complaining about Monday, I started to use them to get things done, under the stealthy cover of everyone else’s distraction.

I also did some math. (Yeah, I know… be prepared, most of these calculations will be wrong.)

But, hear me out. If we work for, say, 40 years, and we work 50 weeks each year, that’s a billion Mondays. (Ok, so it’s really like 2000.) But that means that you have 2000 Mondays, at least. Your mileage may vary, most of us will work more than 40 years.

Now, if you spend the first half of each of those Mondays complaining and fantasizing about being anywhere else but where you are, you’ve now wasted 8000 hours. That’s almost 12 weeks. Three months!

You know what you can do in three months? Write a book. Learn a new language. Travel around the world. Turn that basement into a mancave. Train for a marathon. Or, you know, gain that skill or that knowledge or that network that allows you to go get that job about which you won’t complain every Monday.

Mondays getting you down? Reverse Uno Card that shit and let’s get going. You don’t have to do much. But you have to do something.