Mondays aren't usually the greatest. Trust Don DeLillo to be capable of explaining the value of self-pity:
“Whenever I’m upset over something, I imagine all my friends, relatives and colleagues gathered at my bier. They are very, very sorry they weren’t nicer to me while I lived. Self-pity is something I’ve worked every hard to maintain. Why abandon it just because you grow up? Self-pity is something that children are very good at, which must mean it is natural and important. Imagining yourself dead in the cheapest, sleaziest, most satisfying form of childish self-pity. How sad and remorseful and guilty all those people are, standing by your great bronze coffin. They can’t even look each other in the eye because they know that the death of this decent and compassionate man is the result of a conspiracy they al took part in. The coffin is banked with flowers and lined with a napped fabric in salmon or peach. What wonderful cross-currents of self-pity and self-esteem you are able to wallow in, seeing yourself laid out in a dark suit and tie, looking tanned, fit and rested, as they say presidents are after vacations. But there is something even more childish and satisfying than self-pity, something that explains why I try to see myself dead on a regular basis, a great fellow surrounded by snivelling mournerers. It is my way of punishing people for thinking their own lives are more important than mine”
pg216 White Noise – Don Delillo
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