Holy crap, what was with Monday!!!
I know it’s Tuesday (or Wednesday by the time you get this in your email), but THAT is how long it took to recover enough to write about it. I’m still traumatized!
I normally wash my hair Sunday’s, Tuesday’s, and Thursday’s because I exercise from Saturday – Thursday each week and don’t want it to even think about getting smelly (hair is sneaky that way).
This routine means that I have to flat iron my hair the morning after it is washed.
Yes world…my hair is naturally curly.
You don’t even understand this nonsense!
You know those cute little teacup poodles you see prancing about cutely as only cute-teacup-prancing-poodles can, and they have those adorably cute noses? Sometimes they are even playing with those itty bitty plastic bones while they melt your heart with the prancing because a real bone would be far too heavy for its little tinyness since they are like really, super small puppies and would end up falling on their little faces with their cute poodley bums in the air not knowing what to do because they don’t want to let go of the bone so then they spend the rest of their cute little poodle lives walking on their front paws?
My hair is that poodle!
Only there’s no bone.
I’ve tried to convince it otherwise, but the damn thing is stubborn and refuses to even consider my plea’s. I should probably just shave it off to show it who’s boss, but I’m not sure I’d end up coming out the winner in that case, because after all, once it’s off my head, it’s technically dead right? So who would I gloat to? Certainly not the poodle because it would be upside down at this point and unable to see the top of my head, nor would it care about such minor human problems while dealing with the horrible possibility of a lifetime of upsidedown-ness.
I think maybe I’d be better off just ironing the damn thing into obedience every couple days until it’s long enough that I can leave it curly without it bouncing back up to half its actual length as curly hair is apt to do, making me look like a chia pet gone wrong.
Ummm…now what…oh right, Monday!
So Monday started off horribly.
I woke up with a migraine so had to stay in bed with the lights off until my meds kicked in. Once it was down to a dull roar, I crawled carefully and slowly out of bed and went about my morning routine.
Of course, now I was running behind.
The munchkins woke up to their alarm fifteen minutes after I got up and decided that this particular Monday morning was the perfect day to be all slow and I-don’t-feel-like-hurrying-the-hell-up-ish.
Between my migraine, poodle hair, breakfast, and the very un-hurrying fruit of my
loins stomach (technically I had c-sections so they came out nowhere near my loins thank God!), things weren’t off to a great start.
Somehow, I still managed to shove everyone out the door in time for their school bus, which comes two minutes before mine, and still rush to my bus stop in time.
As I stood shivering to death in my bus stop shelter, I noticed that I was being snowed upon.
This struck me as odd because the shelter had doors which were shut and it was completely enclosed.
Now this kind of thing may not have bothered most people, but let me remind you of the poor little poodle with the bone. MY STRAIGHTENED HAIR DOES NOT LIKE GETTING WET!!!
Looking up and behind me, I realized there were holes at the side near the top…to let air in I’m assuming…but this was stupid because the door wasn’t completely to the ground so the chances of us suffocating was not very high and quite frankly this was a risk I was willing to take as long as on my death bed, my hair was perfectly straight.
Hmmm…ok now that I’m really thinking about it, it’s more likely that it’s to prevent the glass/plastic walls from fogging up so that everyone isn’t all ‘Oh my God I can’t see if that’s my bus or not…is it even a bus? I can’t tell…could be a plane for all I know, I’m stuck in a stupid bus shack that I can’t see out of…who designed this damn thing anyway? Let’s ask the girl with the straight hair. Also I think I may be suffocating.’
Well anyway, the holes are stupid because it was snowing on my head.
So now I had to stuff my hair into my sweater hoody to prevent ‘the poodle’.
The problem here lies in the fact that once I got on the bus, I’d have to take the hoodie off – messing up my hair – so that I didn’t start sweating under there (because the bus can get rather warm with all those zombies packed into it).
Sweat also equals ‘the poodle’.
Maybe I should just wear a damn hat!
Anyway, my point is Monday!
The damn bus that was supposed to show up at 7:47 decided that it was taking the day off. Probably due to too much partying the night before (Grey Cup). The next bus due at 7:56 apparently also took part in this whole ‘let’s-take-the-day-off-and-piss-off-the-straight-haired-girl-NOT-suffocating-in-the-fog-free-frigging-cold-bus-shack’ thing.
At this point I was freaking out slightly because it meant I’d now be late for work.
Finally, the only responsible bus who had obviously left the Grey Cup party early without drowning its sorrows in alcohol, showed up at 8:05.
I start work at 8:30
The bus ride takes 20 minutes
On any day that ISN’T Monday
And isn’t trying to be all snowy!
I was late!
Not too late, only by about 10 minutes which is a miracle in itself since I was sure I had been on the bus for three hours by the time we got there.
Naturally…because the day started in such fine shape, it continued laughing at me every step of the way.
By 10am my brain began pounding again with a ferocity that would make grown men cry, but being used to this sort of thing on a regular basis, I’ve developed a fine tuned sense of ‘get the fucking meds now or your brain WILL explode, spewing gory bits of brain mush and poodle hair over everyone!’
By 10:20am the pounding was once again reduced to a dull roar for the next 3’ish hours.
By the way, whoever designed Tylenol #3’s to last for such a short time is an idiot. Never mind that 4-6 hours crap they paste happily on the side of the container just to tease you. It’s 3.5 hrs max!
Of course I have more serious pain meds specifically designed for migraines of that magnitude, but taking those at work are not recommended as I become a complete idiot on them and can’t even function enough to boil water.
I’d probably still be in the bus shack.
They are more of a ‘take this and you’ll sleep for the next 12 hours’ kind of drug. Definitely a last resort!
So anyway, Monday never got better, my hair started poodling eventually, children ran amuk whining about everything under the sun, and I finally fell into bed later that night after taking the serious meds, seriously considering starting a petition to end Mondays for good. We could call it ‘The day formerly known as Monday’ or ‘Someday’. Yeah I like ‘Someday’. From now on that’s what it shall be.
I’m not sure how these things are decided. Do I need to gather people and have some sort of official meeting or something?
Well, being at a loss about the proper week-day renaming etiquette, I’m just going to officially announce right here that from now on ‘Monday’ shall hence forth be known as ‘Someday’ which shall remove all the stigma and viciousness from it completely. It will be a calmer, more relaxed day and occasionally be cancelled completely at my whim.