A little while back this Mexican restaurant opened up right at the end of my street. The food was fantastic and it was only a three minute walk to get there so in about no-time-flat the habit of getting some Mexican food whenever the mood struck started to wreak havoc on the old day-to-day routine. In order to tamp down the ridiculousness of picking up food from the restaurant all the time (instead of buying real life groceries) the idea came up to pair one of the best things in life with one of the worst things in life, according to Garfield anyway: Mexican food and Mondays.
The thought followed the logic that Mondays are such a destructive force to the human psyche that it is useful, nay necessary, to treat yourself with a figurative pot of gold at the end of that shit rainbow that begins the work week. If your favourite thing is tacos, then Monday night becomes taco night, my friend. But make sure not to let things get out of hand, obviously. Just because it's taco night doesn't mean you turn into a wild animal. Or it does. I mean, live your life, you know?