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Bridges Almost Built

There’s the myth of Mondays in the adult world. Hated days, they signal the end of the party that lasted from Thursday’s late afternoon chicken wings through Sunday’s brunch to football couch languor. Monday is the “side of a barn” target that bears the egg smashes and shotgun pocks of so many projectile laments. For adults it is the start the week of work and debasement and the renewal of the sense that we are rarely, if ever, captains of our own ships. But really it’s a myth, and we are whiners. Mondays can be as equally productive or grudging as Thursdays, and there is no need to shoot the whole day down. We have the capacity to forgive the day, to squeeze it to us and make it sigh, to measure it against all our others not-so-bad days and simply proceed. Adolescents–so very clearly–do not have these capacities…

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