Oh Monday, you devil. Why are you always such a punch in the groin? I used to try to think positively, like that would make Monday just as good as all of the other days, “oh it’s just a MONDAY”, I’d say to myself, “It’s not like it’s D-DAY or something.” But then every Monday was the same, sucking from the minute I woke up until the minute I could get home and take all of my uncomfortable clothes off. No matter how nice you are to Monday, she’s still going to bitch slap you. So I figure I may as well expect the worst. Monday is  just God’s way of taking a dump on all of us.

Today I: Had to drink extra coffee because, as a prelude to the nightmare that is a Monday, The Husband and I had a huge screaming fight last night and then I had trouble sleeping. Discovered a stain on my shirt AFTER I got to work, so that it was too late to change. Inadvertently picked the pair of socks that fall down all day long, and I mean allll the way down, so that everytime I walked from my desk to the bathroom they pooled in the bottom of my shoes. Had to breathe through a noxious cloud of Lysol all day because everyone is so worried about getting sick they wandered around with industrial sized cans of the shit, shooting giant streams on every surface and sometimes just randomly into the air. Forgot to take the Redbox movies with me so had to drive all the way home to get them and then go back out again. And probably lots of other tiny, insignificant shit that people in 3rd world countries would want to spit on me for complaining about.

I feel much better having gotten that off my chest.  There was a silver lining to the Lysol infested morning – Phil Collins, of course. He’s always my silver lining. I know, you’re thinking to yourself, why doesn’t that crazy beeyotch just listen to Phil Collins all the time? Because it’s so much nicer when it’s a Phil-Collins-on-the-radio-sneak-attack to interrupt my foul mood.

Now I’m at home and as a nightcap am finishing off the Whitman’s Sampler I purchased this weekend for comparison purposes (Whitman’s wins, hands down – absolutely NO freaky fruit creams in the box, and there’s toffees).

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