Isn’t that all that needs to be said?
Nothing quite captures the knot of expectant nerves of a week
stretching out into the great, frightening unknown quite like the word
“Monday.”
Monday.
It’s like an invitation to a to-do at your boss’s house of which you
have no clue as to the dress code or the guest list. Where the only hint of
what’s to come on the you-are-required-to-attend card is an admonition to “For
your own protection, please wear a flak jacket and leave all flammables at home.”
Thanks, but I’d rather not.
Me? I’m going to hang out in Sunday for a bit longer. The traffic’s
better here.
*yanked, pulled, dragged by
eyelashes and toenails into Monday*
*plopped on my ass*
*an “I Love Mondays!” hat stuck
on my head*
*sighs*
Fine. I may be here, but I’m still not feeling it.
Picture the unruly child dragged kicking and screaming and spitting and
cursing to their parents’ adult party.
Yep that would be me.
I’m going to go and pout now.
A good, hard, childish sulk always helps. Throw in a trembling lip and
a little snot and I just might get my butt booted to Tuesday.
*chuckles*
Until tonight…
Chloe
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