Moaning Monday

An ordinary Monday turns into a quiet lesson on love, gratitude, and marriage—where meaning hides not in milestones, but in everyday moments.

If Mondays could talk, today’s would sound like a mix of sighs from my husband’s endless meetings and my own moans of relief from an afternoon nap, and maybe one more kind of moan later, LOL. 

Daydreaming back to Imerovigli

Honestly, there wasn’t much story today. It was just another Monday, the kind that slips by quietly, leaving almost no trace behind. My husband spent the day locked in serial online meetings from morning till evening. I, on the other hand, did my usual Monday ritual: ordering vegetables from warteg. Enough stock to last until Friday, because Saturday and Sunday are usually our eating-out days. I also added proteins like eggs and marinated  fish. Because if you have an oven airfryer, simplicity is the love language of survival.

By late afternoon, I managed to sneak in a nap while my husband was still in front of his screen. And at night, we watched Anora on HBO. Well. Let me just say this: it’s basically a semi-p*rn film. Way too many scenes I would never want to watch with kids in the house. Good thing the apartment was just the two of us. And yes, you can already guess the after-effect for a married couple. Let’s just say: Netflix and thrill, LOL.

So what do you write about on a day that feels so… ordinary? Not empty nest, I’ve done that. Not parenting, not career, not some grand philosophical topic. Just this: an uneventful Monday.

But maybe that’s the topic itself.

Because isn’t it funny how we tend to underestimate ordinary days? We wait for birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, big life milestones. Yet if you add them all up, those “big” days probably only make up 2% of our lives. The other 98% is Mondays like this: vegetables from the warteg, endless Zoom calls, an unexpected nap, and a random movie that turns into a couple’s inside joke.

And maybe that’s what love looks like in real life.

I once read that researchers at the Gottman Institute (they study what makes marriages thrive or collapse) found that the secret to lasting love isn’t in dramatic surprises or grand gestures. It’s in what they call “turning toward each other” during the small moments. Choosing to respond to your partner’s joke. Sharing your day’s small details. Watching a random movie together even if you’re tired. These seemingly insignificant actions add up over the years, like drops of water filling a jar.

As an INFJ, I used to crave meaning in everything. I wanted each day to be a breakthrough, each conversation to be profound, each book to change my life. But marriage has been teaching me something gentler. Meaning doesn’t always announce itself with fireworks. Sometimes it’s in the fact that my husband knows exactly how I like my tea. Or that he doesn’t complain when I buy three different types of Uniqlo tops “just in case.” Or that on an ordinary Monday, we can laugh at a weird movie together.

Sometimes I think marriage is less about candlelit dinners and more about inside jokes that no one else would find funny. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has seen you at your worst hair day, your weird food cravings, your dramatic sighs, and still choosing to stay in the room. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke once said, “Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow.” 

Maybe that’s what marriage really is: not trying to collapse all the distance, but learning to live side by side, respecting the mystery, and still cracking up together over a random movie.

Of course, there’s a shadow side too. Ordinary days can blur into monotony. Psychologists call it “hedonic adaptation”, the human tendency to quickly get used to what once felt exciting. That’s why a new car thrill fades after a month, or why we stop noticing the view from our window after a year. The same applies in relationships. Left unattended, ordinariness can slowly turn into indifference.

So how do we deal with it?

Here are a few things I’m trying:

1. Practice micro-gratitude. Instead of waiting for big things to be thankful for, I name small ones: my nap today, the warteg food, my husband’s physical presence all day long. Research from UC Berkeley suggests gratitude actually strengthens relationship satisfaction long term.

2. Create tiny rituals. We don’t need grand date nights every week. But even small rituals like when we hug each other when we wake up and he touches my head before I sleep become threads that weaves us closer.

3. Stay playful. The older we get, the easier it is to get too serious. But honestly, our marriage survives as much on shared laughter as on shared values. Humor is glue. Especially the kind only we understand.

4. Stay curious. Just because I know my husband inside out doesn’t mean there aren’t hidden layers. Psychologists Esther Perel and John Gottman both emphasize that curiosity is what keeps love alive. Ask a new question. Notice a new detail. Assume there’s always something more to discover.

Maybe this is what life in mid-marriage looks like: less about fireworks, more about gentle embers. Less about shouting “forever,” more about whispering “today.” And honestly, that’s enough.

So if you ever feel like your days are too plain to matter, remember: plain days are actually the fabric of a meaningful life. It’s not that ordinary moments become extraordinary; it’s that they already are, if only we notice them.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Maybe another Zoom marathon for him, maybe another warteg order for me. But today I'm grateful for a Monday that looked boring from the outside yet felt quietly sacred from within.

Don’t wait for anniversaries or New Year’s Eve to feel alive. Look at your own Monday. Find the meaning in little details. And if you share your life with someone, lean into the ordinariness together.

Because one day, we’ll look back and realize: the things we once called ordinary were in fact the memories that turned out to be extraordinary.

Love,
Nuniek Tirta Sari