Morning, miscreants! Monday, Monday, Monday. . . mundane, monotonous monstrosity. Why must the Sunday funday be followed by the worst of the weekdays?
Flowers don't care what day of the week it is. Black-eyed susans are booming, blooming like they it's their job.
The bees were buzzing, guess they don't get to call in. Probably a good thing, I need some honey for my coffee.
Flowers will have to do, at least until Friday comes through.