Monday is my day off, my day of rest, my day of recuperation. It is Monday that makes sense of the six days on which I work.
On Sunday night I turn off my phone, and don’t turn it on again until Tuesday morning. I don’t check my email on Monday. Instead, I eat my bread with joy and drink wine with a merry heart and wear whatever I’m comfortable in (generally walking socks on a Monday) and enjoy life with the wife whom I love.
This day – let’s call it a Sabbath – is not a denial of work but a recognition of it. Without it work becomes merely toilsome and tedious and tiring. With it the working week is dignified, as it is the day of rest that provides energy for the six days of labour. And it is that day off that also keeps work within its proper bounds. The work is good, not god.