MONDAY MUTTERINGS

Mondays.  Why is it you start off the week with the best of intentions and you end up in your big fat chair after work with a frown on your face?

It starts at work with a computer that decides not to boot up - what?  A simple reboot turns into a 30-minute long OH CRAP I'M GONNA HAVE TO TAKE IT TO THE SHOP adventure.  You mess with it  and finally it looks like it's THINKING about booting up, so you walk away from it before your impatience makes you click or tap on something which delays the fix.  Besides, you are ready to punch a hole in your monitor even though you realize with the thinking-side of your brain that the monitor isn't the problem.  So you leave it and take your coffee to the kitchen computer just to get a few things done while your computer decides what it's doing. 

So you work on the computer in the kitchen where the A/C blows directly on your back and drops your body temperature to about 45 degrees and your coffee drops from hot & lovely to cold  & forget it.  Then you try to help the Front Desk because their printer quit working Sunday and no matter what trick you try it won't freakin' work and you just don't want to give up because you hate saying I CAN'T FIX IT and IT'S BROKE.  But you finally come to your senses and realize it is dead and it will cost $90 to call the computer guy in to confirm, or the inn manager can spend $100 for a new one.

Then you go back to the office and your computer has booted successfully.  For no good reason.  It's just the universe screwing with you.  And this is all before 9am.

And you've planned to drive to the outlet mall after work and you decide to print that $10-OFF coupon before you forget and then you read the small print and it's $10 OFF YOUR $100 PURCHASE.  Uh, no, you weren't going to spend $100.  But wait!  There's a 2nd coupon - 20% OFF - cool - but it starts on THURSDAY.  You didn't want to wait until Thursday, but in the interest of saving a couple bucks you will.  But now you're irritated.

And you get home and you let the *FLB out of the house for a quick pee - no leash - because he does it and goes right back in the house EVERYDAY, but he spots SOMETHING that YOU can't see and he's off like a shot barking at whatever it is.  You sigh and go into the house and grab the leash and come back out and he's sniffing and rooting around the big tree next door - just past the BUCKET where the snake lives.  So you call him and he runs around the tree and you're trying to make like you're NOT chasing the *FLB and he knows you really ARE chasing him and you're worried the snake is NOT in his BUCKET but out here in the yard enjoying the sunny afternoon and if you see him or step on him you're going to have a coronary and then you get up close to your darling terrier and grab that sucker by his neck.  You're NOT going to look up in the tree where HE'S staring because it could be ANYTHING up there; you just make the leash into a quick slip knot and lead your pet gently into the house.

And you open up your email and even though you've gotten 2 estimates for gutters the other condo owner wants just one more from "his guy" and that delays the gutters again.  sigh.

And you read some short stories in your Glimmer Train Winter Issue and they are well-written but the last one punches you in the gut and you toss it aside and decide to do something else, but you feel like crap.

Then you read your daily Dave Barry column and, even though it's from July 2001, it makes you laugh.  It's about taking his baby daughter on a 4-hour flight and involves projectile vomiting.  And on the Georgia news you read that a bug from Asia has appeared in Georgia and it loves to eat kudzu.  The bug is called the globular stinkbug and the last line of the article says it all:  "But if the bug if threatened, it will put off an odor."  What?  How bad an odor?  Like a skunk?  Considering the forecasts that if scientists don't stop the spread of kudzu it will eventually cover the entire southeast, I think southerners can put up with a little odor.  Can't be as bad as that plane ride with Dave Barry's baby.

*FLB=Freakin' Little Bastard