Last week, a reader and I came up with the idea that we should start to embrace Monday and act like it is a great day. And you’re probably thinking why the heck someone would do something so stupid, right? Mondays are horrible; they’re the start of the work week, and something always goes wrong.
Are they really that horrible, or are we just conditioned to believe that they are because everyone else thinks so?
When I opened my eyes this morning, I was thanking the creator that it is a brand new day, even if it is a Monday. My weekend was long and horrible and unproductive, and I am glad that it is over.
Sunday was especially hideous, even though it started out okay. I got up and watched McHale’s Navy and wondered how Ernest Borgnine was doing. I thought, “he’s pretty old; we’re lucky to still have him around with everyone else dying off…” A couple of hours later, I heard from a friend of mine that Ernest Borgnine died at 95.
Wonderful. My thoughts killed Ernest Borgnine.
Okay, he actually died in hospital of advanced kidney failure…and the fact that he was 95 years old. But I have a bad habit of thinking about how much longer people have left and they suddenly die a short while later. George Burns and Bob Hope are examples of this. I’m a freekin’ jinx, people! 😦
Yesterday I was also a wee bit harassed by a frienemy on Facebook. He’s one of those people who you talk to every once in a while, but you know better than to divulge too much information because they’re a huge jerk and might twist your words and use something against you in the future.
I had shared a link asking people to give to the MS Society in memory of a friend of mine who had the disease. She recently died of complications stemming from surgery she had to remove a brain tumor. The frienemy posted on the thread, saying his dad had MS, and then he left another comment to attack me and give the impression that I was some sort of mooching bum who doesn’t want to work. That was after he sent me inappropriate private messages telling me that I should dress provocatively and act like a skank so I can get a job at a bar, which will get me insurance to pay for my much-needed surgery.
His advice was not welcome or necessary—and neither was his attitude on my Timeline. So I removed him from my friends list (something I had planned on doing anyway), and blocked him. (Don’t you wish that we had the ability to do that in real life?) The attitude on that guy put me in a foul temper for the rest of the day.
Around 10 o’clock, I decided that I’d had enough of the day and decided to go to bed. I was tired and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. Less than an hour later, I woke up with a start, thinking that my building was being bombed. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad as all that. It was just my party animal neighbors screaming, yelling, and stomping to music that was turned up full blast. They do this practically every weekend. And they get so drunk that they wind up throwing up in the laundry room sink and passing out on the floor.
Their partying continued throughout the night, so the little sleep I got before they started their shenanigans was it for me. I’m exhausted and have a lot to do today…and I am going to make sure that I make a lot of noise over here to keep them awake with me.
Thank God it’s Monday, ladies and gentlemen. This day couldn’t possibly be any worse than the Sunday I had yesterday! And the heatwave in St. Louis appears to be over. We had a wicked thunderstorm last night and today the high is only supposed to get to the high 80s. I might not even have to put on my central air! Woo!
I just hope that I don’t have to deal with any inconsiderate people….
- Film: Newswire: R.I.P. Ernest Borgnine (avclub.com)
- Why We Don’t Say “Thank God It’s Tuesday” (thenarcissisticanthropologist.com)