Monday-est of Mondays

I don’t usually bemoan Mondays. Someone once told me they never complain about Mondays, never wish them away, because it’s a day in their life they can never get back. It sort of struck a chord with me and so I try to be grateful, everyday.

However, some Mondays are the Monday-est, and this one has been spectacularly so.

I sabotaged myself by staying up way too late, sucked into Season 5 of Game of Thrones. (I’ve been obsessively critiquing the deviations from the books – that didn’t happen that way, hey wait, that guy’s supposed to be dead, and really? Did they even read the cliff notes?) After telling myself, just one more episode, one too many times, I ended up with far less than the requisite amount of sleep. When my alarm cruelly ripped me from a pleasant dream about Jamie Lannister, I floundered for my glasses in a drowsy stupor. Fumble, grapple, crash, SPLOOSH! Yes, I managed to dump a cup of water on my head. Instantly awake.

Taking out the dog, I found (after he did his business) that the last poop bag in my holder was inexplicably open on both ends. Well, that won’t work. I headed back into the house to get a new package, and a passerby glared daggers at me, silently judging for not cleaning up after my dog.

Armed with a new baggie, I came to the realization that searching for a little brown pile in dead March grass, scattered with over-wintered leaves, is tantamount to the proverbial needle-in-a-haystack. I persevered and found it. With my shoe.

Coffee, sweet elixir of life, YOU can turn this around. Opps. Accidentally grabbed the salt container instead of the sugar. Blech. How I managed that, I can’t fathom as they don’t even vaguely resemble each other. No time to make more, I’m out the door.

In light of the absolutely gorgeous weather we had yesterday, I duped myself into believing I didn’t need a jacket. Welcome to Spring in New England where every day is a different season. Sixty and sunny one day, snowy and cold the next. So not only did I find myself chilled through, I also didn’t have any way to disguise the fact that I put my shirt on inside out. I discovered this charming faux pas in the parking lot at doggie daycare and had to do the walk of shame in front of all the other doggie parents. Classy.

I can only assume things will get better. I mean I’m over-tired, under-caffeinated, haphazardly dressed and convinced there’s a phantom whiff of dog poo clinging to me. (Even though I changed my shoes.) What else could possibly go wrong?

Watch out world, I’m dangerous today!


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