Ah, Monday. The great illusionist. The David Blaine of the calendar. One moment it’s 8:00 a.m. and you’re mapping out your grand plans, whispering motivational quotes to yourself like you’re about to scale Everest in heels. And then—poof!—it’s 5:43 p.m., you’re unsure of what actually got done, and there’s a mysterious coffee ring on your to-do list right where “world domination” used to be.

I always start my Mondays with hope. Big hope. Olympic-level ambition. By 10:00 a.m., I’m already writing a new business plan in my head while responding to emails, sipping coffee, and having a deep internal debate about whether I’m truly hydrated or just emotionally parched.

But somehow, somewhere, Monday eats time like it’s on an intermittent fasting binge and I’m the main course.

I mean, truly—where does it go? Is there a Monday Bermuda Triangle? Are there lost hours floating out there with my missing socks, unread emails, and intentions to meal prep?

The illusion is this: we believe we have all day. It’s the start of the week! The runway is clear! We’ll make time! But by the time you hit the post-lunch fog and remember you’ve had the same tab open for 45 minutes (and it’s a recipe for zucchini bread you’re not even making), reality bites back.

And don’t get me started on the meetings that could’ve been memes.

Still, I’ve learned to love the illusion a little. Mondays are like a magic trick gone slightly off-script—you never get the show you expected, but you did survive it. And that? That’s no small feat.

So here’s my Monday mantra: If you made it through the illusion without setting fire to your inbox or your soul, you win.

We’ll get ‘em Tuesday.