Monday morning was the worst possible time to have an existential crisis, I decided on a Monday morning, while having an existential crisis.
Ideal crisis hours were obviously Friday afternoons, because you had a full weekend afterwards to turn back into a person. you could get away with Saturday if you were efficient about it. Mondays, though – on Mondays, you had to size up the tsunami of work that loomed in the near distance and cobble together a survival strategy. There was no time for the crisis cycle: 1) teary breakdown, 2) self-indulgent wallowing, 3) questioning whether life had meaning, and 4) limping toward recovery. Four nifty stages. Like the water cycle, but soul-crushing.