Seriously. I hate Monday.

I wasn't feeling well this weekend so I spent Friday night and Saturday lounging on the couch sleeping. When I wasn't running for the bathroom, that is. I felt horribly lazy. And, I admit, a little decadent. Unfortunately, all that sleeping really messed up my sleeping schedule. At 1:15 am I was calculating just how much sleep my insomnia was costing me and it was ugly. Since I couldn't fall sleep I snagged Rob's copy of I Am Legend. Not the smartest move I've ever made because I'm one of those people who dream about what they last thought about. Needless to say I had very interesting, if not exactly pleasant, dreams.

I woke up around 4:20 this morning by Thaddeus using my EYEBALL as a launching pad to escape, or attack, Posey. Half awake but still lost in the world of Zombies and Vampires, I sat up in a dead panic and slapped my hand over my eye. I was absolutely terrified to remove my hand for fear my eyeball would fall out of my eye socket. I could feel the wetness on my palm and knew my eyeball was deflating and my eye lid was shredded. My heart was pounding. I couldn't breath. I was BLIND! Finally I gathered the courage and to my joyful amazement, I could SEE! The wetness was just the blood dripping from my cheek and nose which had seen a little claw action. After a vicious face wash and a paper towel pressed against the wounds, I realized I'd live. And so began another glorious Monday morning.

This is why I seriously hate Monday. And this is why mornings SUCK.

I did perk up a bit on Sunday and took Zack to see Indiana Jones. Joe didn't want to go. I didn't understand WHY, but there it is. Zack loved it. He was completely enthralled with Indy. So was I, albeit for different reasons. Since I'd watched it already I studied HF instead. He was even better the second time around. Zack came home and raved about it to Joe, who now says he wishes he'd gone. I'm digging under couch cushions and crawling around the truck for change. I'll happily take him to see it too. Three times IS the charm...

Foot-in-mouth disease

I'm pretty shy. I don't connect with people easily. In person anyway. I have a chronic case of Foot-in-mouth disease. I've had it as long as I can remember, and it's getting worse in my old age. I'm THAT woman. The one who attempts to compliment but insults instead. The one who says something completely innocent but it doesn't realize it came out obnoxious or lewd until hours later when it's too late to compound the issue by trying to clear it up. The one who catches herself mid-toe-swallow and tries to cover it up and only makes it worse in the end. There have been a lot of Morning After's where I'd swear I've seen toe nails and sock fuzzies floating in the toilet bowl. Which reminds me about a story concerning that blue beer they serve at Quarks Bar in the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton. It's pretty hysterical. But I'll save that for another day.

I'm much better with the written word. Preferably on a computer so I can delete, rearrange and sit on something before I release my words into the world. I seem much more intelligent that way. This is because I suffer from another chronic syndrome called BLABBER MOUTH. (BM) Once I'm comfortable with a person, which takes about six months or so, I'll start talking about something I'm completely enthusiastic about. I'll keep going and going until I realize that no, the other person is NOT having a seizure, their eyes are darting all over the place looking around desperately for an escape route from my breathless commentary. I abruptly shut up and walk quickly away in shame, while the other person is alternatively wondering where salvation came from and WHERE exactly that shut off button was so they can use it next time. Yeah, that's me.

I always seem to have so much to share. I love to make people laugh. I believe laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world, to me anyway. But sometimes I get a bit carried away. I'm really trying to work on this. Hopefully I'll find a cure before someone calls the nice men in white coats to carry ME away! Although, I might enjoy it for a while, and wouldn't THAT just be a laugh and a half?

I'm pretty sure I had a point I was trying to make when I started this post. Of course, I've had a complete brain fart and lost it through my pointless rambling on and on. So I'll just say this... Because I suffer from BM, I can pretty much guarantee every post I make will be edited a minimum of eight times, and I'll wind up cutting at least HALF of what I've written before I post anything. I hope it helps. If not, at least you were warned.

Call it what you like, it still felt like Monday.

Three day weekends are the greatest. I even whistled as I drove into work this morning! To know me is to understand the enormity of my previous statement. When I pulled up into the parking lot it hit me that I had an entire day's work waiting for me and I hadn't even walked in the door yet. It all kinda went downhill from there...

Now, I KNOW today is Tuesday, May 27th, but for the life of me I couldn't stop looking at the calendar and thinking it was Monday, May 26th. I'll be honest, I haven't a clue how many times I entered the incorrect date today. I'm fairly efficient and there was NO WAY I was double checking all my work. Especially when my in-bin still resembled a paper avalanche threatening to bury me when I left today. But on the brighter side, maybe Friday will feel like Thursday and my mind will be tricked into thinking I have another three day weekend?

Traffic was pretty light today, probably because half the population of Pennsylvania is still partying it up and lounging around on the sand down the shore while I'm stuck drudging my way back and forth to work. I got home early and snagged Thaddeus lounging in the window with his tail twitching, staring longingly at the baby birdies he'd just love to innocently visit up close and personal like if I would just let him outside, which I WON'T. He's become calmer since the snip, snip, pop, pop, stitch, stitch. (neutered, for those who aren't in the know.) Poor baby. I've removed his very essence of maleness and turned him into a eunuch. But he's just SO much more snuggly now that he doesn't try to gouge out my eyes, lips, or arms when I cuddle with him!

I happened to glance out the window when I walked over to pet Thaddeus. I did a double take. Then a triple take. Now, I know that people like to customize their vehicles in all manners these days. Neon lights, skull hood ornaments, brake light covers, blinking plate covers, etc... I don't care what other people do, but I'm personally not much into all that. The only customizing my truck gets is when I have to careen to a sudden stop on a steep downward curvy hill for the sneaky school bus that malevolently appears on random days, causing my travel mug of perfectly brewed coffee to fly out of my cup holder and spray the dashboard, radio, and rug. If I'm really lucky my pants get customized too, which is accompanied by a fair amount of yowling from the pain of second degree leg burns and muttering about the audacity and sheer insanity of the parents who ALLOW their kids to be picked up for school so early. I'm forced to stare at the beautiful glistening droplets of my lifeline, my life's BLOOD, clinging to the interior of my truck so tantalizingly close, yet so far away. Some mornings I'm so desperate I'd like to try to lick it up but even my sleep deadened brain knows that other people might see my desperation as something else and might be totally grossed out and feel like vomiting, or worse, actually do it, and it really wouldn't do to see THAT so early in the morning, so I refrain.

But I digress...

As I was snuggling and smothering Mr. T with kisses I glanced out the window. I confess it took me a minute or two to process what I was looking at through my "I know it's Tuesday but feels like Monday" mentality. I have to admit I'm not getting what they were trying to say here.

I feel so bad for that hot red spoiler with the black racing stripes. I bet the poor thing was once sitting on a beautiful sports car and must be crying inside at the level of insult it's being shown late in life. But I'm always one to admire a person who has strength of character to rise above ridicule with a strong "I don't give a damn what anyone says about me" , all of which I'd need in SPADES to take a ride in this thing, let alone actually drive it!

I think I'll be very relieved when this Tuesday that feels like a Monday ends. Maybe tomorrow morning will greet me with a sense of relief that I've made it through a very surreal kind of day with my usual equanimity intact.

Lazy afternoons

I don't get many opportunities to be lazy and took full advantage this afternoon. I was lounging on the couch watching the dogs sleep and Posey play with a Nerf dart. She loves Nerf darts. Adores Nerf darts. Walks around carrying them in her mouth like they are her babies or something. I'm going to have to buy a bag of 30 replacement darts just for her! Anyway, Oliver roused himself and somehow managed to grab it for himself. It got stuck in his lip and he couldn't get it out.

Maggie, sensing Oliver's distress, stole it out of his mouth and proceeded to chew it almost beyond recognition. After speaking to her about the magnitude of her crime, Maggie was very repentant and got her sad eyes going. It worked. On me, anyway.

Posey,on the other hand, was unmoved. She did not handle it well. She was much aggrieved after the desecration of her beloved dart. I wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley. Alone or with a group of people.

Oliver should have been quaking with fear in the face of the fury of Posey the Avenger, especially as he was the original perpetrator of the crime. I spoke with him too. He didn't seem too worried.


On a side note...
Harrison Ford is the reason I've had a thing for older men since I was around 12 or so. I've been waiting and waiting (20 years) for another Indiana Jones movie. My, but that man has aged WELL. When I saw his patented intense grin come across his face on the big screen I swear he was looking directly at me. I had an instant hot flash and my heart skipped a beat or two. Yeah, he may be older, but he still has that presence that makes me almost swoon. I'm grateful my husband understands the attraction and doesn't mind because I couldn't hide it if I tried. I just wish Sean Connery had made an appearance. (Another swoonable older man) We loved it. I may drag the kids there next weekend just so I can watch it (Harrison Ford) again.

I hate mornings

I am NOT a morning person. AT ALL. Most days I wonder why I wake up and even bother to get out of bed. I tell myself it's because something interesting is bound to happen, and I don't want to miss it. That's a crock, but any excuse will do.

I dragged my exhausted butt out of bed at THE most inappropriate hour to get ready for work. When the boys woke up my oldest headed straight for the bathroom. While I'm filling the first cat bowl I hear the door creak and him giggle and say, "Posey, get out of here!" (She's the ultimate bathroom buddy) As I'm filling the second bowl I hear a panicked "Posey! Get Down! NO! POSEY!" followed by "MOOOOOM!"

I must say I'm amazed at my son's control. Miss Posey hopped on the seat of the toilet, and yes, stuck her neck into the line of fire. My son stopped mid-stream to push her off, a feat I haven't been able to accomplish since he was a newborn. Apparently the reason I woke up TODAY was to have the wonderful experience of giving a feisty 6 month old kitten a bath in the sink before work. I've had worse mornings, so I'm not complaining. Really.

This is Posey, by the way.



As I'm crawling down the highway during my horrid morning commute I notice a WHISKER on my chin. Now I've got a battle going on with these damn things, and I'm losing. Why is it I can stare in a mirror for hours and not find anything, but as soon as I'm in my truck my face seems over run by them? Since I'm sitting on the ramp in a long line of cars waiting for the 4 1/2 minute light rotation to get around to us, I grab the tweezers and go at it. I have no idea how long I sat there but I started hearing someone honking (multiple someone's, actually) and they're honking at ME! I peered under my visor and Wow! Empty road as far as my eyes can see. I toss my tweezers, waved an apology and hit the gas. I got to the light just as it turned yellow. I should have stopped. I KNOW I should have stopped. But in that split second of indecision the thought of sitting another 4 1/2 minutes at that light with people glaring and honking at me sunk in. I hit the gas. HARD. I feel fairly guilty that no one else behind me made it through the light, but that's life in the fast lane! I got to work on time, pretty much, anyway, so it's all good.