fuzzy. ugh.

one of our culture's lamest joke traditions is that of the "monday."

every monday morning, at every business in Western culture, co-workers greet each other, the first one saying something like "good morning" (or if you're me or ozzy osbourne, "g'murn"). the second person almost invariably is required by cultural law to make some sort of comment referring to how it's monday and therefore, everything sucks. "well, it's a monday." "ok for a monday." "f*** you, it's monday." and so on. if you're lucky, you'll run into someone overly religious who will say "it's monday, but God loves me!"...the f-bomb monday greeting is even more preferable than this.

that said, i try to ignore the general attitude toward monday and go into it with the attitude that hey, it's a new week, i just had a couple days off of work, and i should be able to handle life just a tiny bit better than the following 4 days. unfortunately, occasionally pop culture affects real life and monday morning becomes that kid who decides that hey, whether he's earned the reputation or not, he's got it and may as well live up to it.



Here's a bit of a journal of this monday morning, one of those to embrace me with the subtlety of Chris Farley in a little coat, with about the same result:


6:30am The alarm goes off. I realize that in life, there are battles, there are things that as much as they suck and hurt, as difficult as things are, you must "buckle down" as my dad would say and just do it. while contemplating this truth and letting this realization drive me to get out of bed, i somehow fall back asleep.

6:38-42am I manage to wake up again, realize i somehow feel worse, but manage to get my feet on the floor, grab some clothes, and wander to the shower.

7:06am I'm out of the shower and must now get ready while Carole showers and gets ready.

7:10-7:20am I can usually make it without coffee until i get to work, but today it's needed immediately. i start making coffee and peel open a banana that ends up taking me 20 minutes or more to eat.

7:38am After doing some actual work on the computer, I know that in order to wake up, i'll need some music. Unthoughtfully forgetting that Ryan is upstairs and trying to sleep (i think i forgot i heard him come in last night), i start playing some music. it's impossible for me to have it playing quietly and actually listen to it due to the big speakers, and Carole comes downstairs and reminds me of everything i just typed.

7:50 (or so) I ask Carole if she needs anything done for her for breakfast and she says "poptarts." what she actually says is "grab a pack of poptarts for me" but i hear "poptarts" and grab them, take them out of the package and put them into the toaster, which turns out to not be the best plan.

8:05-20am After several other gaffes i've mercifully forgotten by now, we're on the road. I'm actually doing fairly well with the freeway traffic, we're listening to The Cure, and i only used "adult language" once when the big truck cut me off.

8:25am Carole asks me what that smell is. While i'm thinking about it, i just miss the right place to drop her off and end up a bit farther away from the door than i should be. I realize the smell is pizza.

8:32 Driving to work now, having just finished a killer karoake rendition of "lovesong," I decide that The Cure is going to make me sleepy somehow if i play them any longer. I flip on the radio.

8:36 I pull onto the freeway, singing along with "You're So Vain."

8:38 I somehow decide that Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic" would be bad karma to listen to right now.

And so I finally made it to work, where everyone was really nice.

(editing note: this was during a week or two where i had to give carole a ride to her job after she got in her car incident. normally i work at 8am.)