Blue Monday

Blue Monday

Monday has never been a good day for me and today was no exception. Jerking awake at the sound of the garbage truck outside the bedroom window, I checked the time.

“My God, it’s 9:15,” I hollered at Susanne, “you didn’t pull the thingy out!”

“What..., WHAT?” she mumbled. Bolting upright, her elbow to my eye, “I get the shower first, you take the garbage out before the truck gets away.”

Running downstairs while holding a cold compress over your eyes is never a good idea under the best of circumstances I realized, picking up the split garbage bag’s contents.

The garbage truck was three blocks away before I caught it. “A brisk morning run can sharpen the mind and tone the body.” I gasped, startling the garbage man as I hurled the entire can into the truck.

It takes approximately four times the amount of time to hobble three blocks with a pulled hamstring as it does to run the same distance without.

Stripping off off my ripped and bloody pajamas, I made a mental note to have the cat de-clawed; she can be so moody when stepped on. Susanne said my singing in the shower was getting worse, sounding more and more like moose mating calls; such is the cauterizing power of scalding showers.

Finally dressed, I ran downstairs gratefully taking the coffee mug Susanne handed me. In retrospect taking a big gulp was probably not a good idea, plus spit coffee does not generally improve wifely moods.

I tried to give her a kiss before she left, but feeling the bones breaking in my foot as the car backed over it cooled my mood drastically.

Calling in sick to work is entirely more convincing when done from the emergency room, strangely enough.