I could make any manner of Monday jokes here, but we all know them already. Go ahead and recite a few in your mind, if you’d like, or visit someecards for your daily fix.
Here’s how yesterday was slated to go:
6:00 am – Husband wakes me up so I can run errands before work
9:00 am – begin work on time
2:30 pm – leave work to run more errands
4:30 pm – arrive at home
5:30 pm – delicious, nutritious dinner
6:00 pm – Black Ops II
6:30 pm – call time for show
10:45 pm – in bed, seconds away from sweet, sweet sleep
That’s a rad day. That’s the sort of productive, I got stuff done sort of day you want to start your week with. You even fit in Black Ops II because you’re not like a boss. You are a boss.
Oh, sorry TACO clan. Didn’t know what hit you?
But unfortunately, it’s very rare that I begin any week with a boss-like Monday, and this week was really no exception, good intentions aside.
It really started around 1:30 am when I realized the insomnia was back for whatever reason, and I clearly wasn’t going to want to wake up four hours later to beautify myself and then go to Walmart (for the record, I never want to go to Walmart). Also the realization that, Walmart aside, the other stores I was hoping to shop at weren’t going to be open till 8:00 or even 9:00, so it didn’t matter how early I got up, I wasn’t going to get in anyhow.
But I held out this hope that when Husband woke me up at 6:00 am, I’d be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, that somehow those four hours had been the best four hours of my life and I got sufficient REM, and that my productivity level would be through the roof.
Incidentally, don’t ask your spouse to wake you up at 6:00 am the following morning as he’s falling asleep. It’s probably not going to happen.
And so I woke up at 8:40, which is, even more incidentally, when I need to leave for work every morning. Boss man is in Hawaii. He’s really magnanimous when he’s in Hawaii. So I decided to run errands and show up at 11:30, because, after all, I only had one real task to do, and it was going to be a breeze, thanks to the thorough and accurate spreadsheet our student employee put together for me.
And now for your very own, small-scale A Series of Unfortunate Events, because …
Here’s how yesterday panned out:
The late wake-up
Kitty scratch. She’ll let you bathe her and clip her nails, but so help you if you decide to hold her while stepping onto a scale to see how much she weighs — she will cut you.
This is my shoulder. It still hurts.
Errands at Walmart
Arrival at work, where it was discovered the spreadsheet was neither thorough nor accurate, making my copy/paste job less copy/paste and more type everything in, you’re probably leaving work late because of it.
Late departure from the office
Five grocery stores
Migraine in Costco, where it was abnormally loud
Five grocery stores (not five more. I just wanted to repeat that for emphasis. Because seriously.)
Burnt broccoli/chicken/soy sauce smell in the condo
Stage makeup on top of regular makeup in a panic because hello, we have to leave in 7 minutes.
Dinner in the dressing room
A snag in the pantyhose large enough that I could finally fit my entire foot through it. Musical theatre: Ke$ha style.
We R Who We R
And then, to round it all out, at the end of the show, I choked on a mouthful of water and, not within running distance of a garbage can or sink, decided to spit it up all over the floor. But of course the knee-jerk reaction is to put your hands out, like maybe you can catch it. With your fingers. So I closed the finale with a sopping wet blouse and jacket. Because why not.