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Monday, June 26, 2006

Monday's Child is Full of Woe

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I hate Mondays today. I don't hate all Mondays, I just hate this one. I hate this one because I woke up when I didn't want to, with a head the size of a Mack truck, blurry thinking, and the general sense that if I got up things would not get any better.

I was right.

Right now I should be doing something else.

I really, really, really should be doing something else.

But instead I'm blogging.

You are probably reading this instead of doing something you should be doing too.

Ha! That makes us co-conspirators in unproductivity.

At least I have an excuse.

Blogging does not hurt. At least if I am very careful and don't move my head too much I can try to touch type without shaking anything up in my neck or back.

Or head.

But that's not funny, you came here for funny. So imagine that I am here typing this, barely able to sit upright, playing hookey from online bill paying, and a charming but devilish child comes up behind me with what in the hands of someone else or at another time would be a musical instrument blows loundly as if he was Gabriel himself sounding the trumpet to open the gates of heaven.

You would not think that such a harmless looking thing like a harmonica could cause Daddy to actually fall out of his rolling chair writhing painfully on the floor, would you?

I hate Monday.

The child survived without scarring of any kind since he thought my play along game and faces were quite, quite funny and ran along to Mommy with the important paper like a "big boy" as I asked.

It was not one if those "get the kid out of my hair missions". While written in leftover bits of crayon ground into the rug by said wunderkid on an empty bill envelope that also was next to it, it had a simple message for Mommy.

HELP!

I not normally need help off the floor. But since this was Monday, I thought I would enlist help in case a new game like "make noise by hitting loud objects together" was started while I was trying to get up off the floor. Thus making my struggle more difficult.


I won't say that Mommy ignored the note, but if "HELP!" can be interpreted as meaning that wunderkind got a DC, not a D & C, a DC is a diaper change, and other distractions so that Daddy could use the nice stable rolling chair to pull himself back up to a sitting position, then I did get "HELP!".

Putting the harmonica in time out for the day was too much to ask, after all telepathic communication does not come with wedding vows said. Besides, what can you expect on a Monday?

So I will leave you with this thought.

Woeful Monday is no different than a woeful Tuesday or any other day of the week. But, my day is not yet gone. So I still have a chance to make it a pretty decent day.
It may be a lot to expect for a woeful Monday, but what the heck, I'm sure someone out there is having a worse day than I am.

Hope it's not you.

Peter





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