It’s starting to smell like Smonday. The moment Sunday stops being Sunday and the realization that it will be Monday in a few hours kicks in. It smells of vinegar, sauerkraut, and burnt rubber. Dipped in rotten egg. If I try hard enough, sniffing the faint scent of a Gevrey-Chambertin opened weeks ago may alleviate the impending horror and make it a little easier to sleep tonight. Desperate times call for desperate measures.