Even the word can sound foreboding at times. Monday means getting up and back to the daily grind. It brings with it a succession of days with long to do lists, usually someone else's. I suppose it isn't fair to pick on Monday. After all each of the other days will bring troubles of their own.
Today, however, is Monday, and thus far it has been pretty annoying.
I worked for the paper today. Too many idiots wanted to complain about the cost of their subscription. It does make me wonder if people actually know what the cost of a subscription is when they sign up to receive the paper. I mean really people, Monday or no, the paper costs money to be delivered to your house! Egad!
This Monday was also the first day back to school for the children. Mr J awoke with crabby written all over him, and strangely enough, even a shower could not rinse it off of him. Miss C, on the other hand, awoke rather cheerful. This gives documented proof that there surely must be something wrong with this Monday. For my children to switch personalities in this way is simply too odd.
Today was also the day that Mr B, my little bro (all 6 foot 3 of him!) received the summons and petitions from Tofu Girl concerning her suit for full custody of the Young Prince (born nearly a year ago this month). This being Monday, it somehow seems appropriate. Mr B is so in love with the Young Prince that he neither sleeps nor eats and his hatred toward Tofu Girl grows with a gnawing, tearing, passion, that may destroy him some day. It will probably happen on, you guessed it, a Monday.
Being that today is Monday, Old Grumpy (aka father-in-law) decided to plant his butt in our living room and yabber away, as soon as Dearest Hubby appeared home from work. Few things irritate me more than that. For you see, there isn't another woman in our marriage...there is another man. His name is Old Grumpy and he lives to make my life, and every other woman in this family, insane. I do not begrudge Old Grumpy time with Dearest Hubby, but he IS MY Dearest Hubby and thus I should be the only one he gets to talk to for the first half hour after he gets home from work...on Monday (or any other day for that matter).
Which of course leads me to Dearest Hubby, who was tired and irritated after a long day at work. As usual, after a MONDAY, he only wants to crawl into his chair and listen to whichever LP strikes his fancy (yes, LP, as in vinyl - he's going through a stage right now and I have high hopes that this too shall pass). The man wants a sympathetic ear and good long back rub (and maybe a piece of pie). Sadly, it is Monday and I have neither sympathy or pie. Dearest Hubby is treading upon unsafe territory. Much as the American Revolutionaries who lost the Battle of Brandywine to the British in 1777...on this day!
Dinner, on an Autumn Monday night, is always early and usually a bit rushed. Tonight was spaghetti and I hate spaghetti (yes, I am aware that I am the moron who MADE the spaghetti, but that is beside the point!). We always eat early, not because of Monday night football, but because of BSF. Yes, tonight begins the first of many BSF nights.
Wait...That's a good thing! Monday nights means my little family and Old Grumpy load up and leave the house for THREE HOURS AND EIGHTEEN MINUTES! Leaving me and Dingo (the cat) alone with the computer, the television, and the silence.
I love Monday!