"Mondays ain't so bad... It's your job that sucks!"

When I had a desk job, I would daydream about surfing on Monday morning, when the weekend warrior crowd - myself included - had returned to their shitty urban existences. I would look at weather reports, surf forecasts and the few cams along the coast. Photos from friends that lived out west would make their way onto the internet, highlighting a swell I could not surf. Sad. When the weekend would roll around, I was all too eager to escape. Sometimes we'd head west without looking at what lay ahead. Foolish. Now that I am an independent contractor, working from wherever I want - and whenever I want for that matter - the ability to surf during the week has become a reality. Whether it's a Monday morning, Thursday evening, or shortly before sunset on Sunday, I can now surf when I want, not when I am allowed.

An example... We've been dog sitting for friends these last few days. Double wiener dogs: Maggie and Millie. Wrapping up a bit of work over the weekend, and allowing the rain and foul weather to make its way inland, we skipped town on Sunday afternoon following a late breakfast. After burgers at The Bushwhacker, we parked in front of a friends place and called it an evening. The sun was what woke us on Monday morning, peeking through the back curtain of our cargo van. We ate a quick breakfast before heading west in search of surf. On our way out I noticed my friend Cash's van parked just outside of town - my guess was that he'd caught a ride all the way out, having seen the same forecast as myself: offshore winds, waves about waist high, clear skies, the works. And that is exactly what awaited us. Cash and Nick were already in the water. I snapped a few photos through the trees and then slipped into my suit and began the great stoke harvest.















Photos come courtesy of Kyra Sacdalan and Captain Coffey.

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