I'm someone that never blames my shitty days on the day of the week. I dislike when people blame Monday, as if it was Monday' s fault. Also, Monday is usually a good day for me.
Not today it wasn't. It started in the wee hours. I woke up for various reasons; cat knocking over stuff down stairs, reoccurring nightmare (the whole night), son talking loudly in his sleep, snoring husband, and noisy old sleeping dog. Between 2:45 and 4:35am I was up, awake, or trying to go back to sleep. I finally get to sleep and my husband tries to wake me around 5am. I finally get out of bed around 8am. I was in slow mode and very very tired. I get my shower and everything seems to be ok. My youngest son wakes and it's still ok. My oldest awakens and BOOM, temper and nasty attitude from asking him to do a chore; feed the cats.
I broke glass, cleaned it up. Running late after dealing with nasty butt and then can't find my keys. Someone had moved them from my spot. I found them, running even later, I jump in the car to find just enough gas to get to my yoga class I'm teaching.
I get to class and cannot find free parking and had to pay. Get inside and one of the helpers has a fucking hangover. The clients, being mentally challenged, sense her inability to help, act up. It's a fucking nightmare.
Long story short, I'm glad that today is at an end. It did not get better until after 2pm when I got outside and made trenches and planted asparagus crowns into the ground.
Something about wearing my ass out digging and touching dirt makes everything better.
(Forgot to mention the ant farm living in one of my potted plants! I sat it outside and the little fuckers started to walk back into the house carrying their eggs. This was before 2pm)
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