My Weekend Died Sunday Night. Funeral at 8 AM.

My weekend had a great run. It passed away peacefully Sunday night from natural causes — specifically, Monday approaching at full speed. It was 48 hours old. Survivors: a pile of laundry, three unanswered texts, and a to-do list that will now never be completed.

Funeral services: 8 AM Monday, graveside, at my desk. The eulogy will be delivered by my alarm clock, which has no sympathy and never has. Pallbearers: my unread emails, carrying the casket of my free time to the work week.

In lieu of flowers: coffee, large, black, no judgment. A new weekend arrives Friday, and we will absolutely make the most of it this time. Probably. Maybe. We'll see how tired we are.