Case of the Mondays

Holy shit, my Monday has been rough. It started out like it was going to be all good, to lure me into its trap. I woke up before my alarm and petted my precious Jack Jack for a minute. I needed to be on time today for testing that they wanted me to come in for on Friday but I couldn’t (cause Mr C had minor surgery and was high as fuck so I had to husband-sit). So I was rolling to get there quite easily ahead of time.

I usually get in at or slightly after 8:00am. Today, I arrived easily at 7:25. Fuck yeah. That’s in major rush hour traffic too, which I apparently usually don’t have. And just as I went to swipe my badge, I realized I did not have it. Fuck me. So I had to come home to get it. Then, right as I pull in my drive way and hit the bump, the tire pressure light comes on. Gahhhh dammit.

So I go back to work and now it’s 8:15. Fucking rush hour! It never takes that long. So, at work, of course nothing works. Because that would be too easy. Nope, everything’s broken. You said that because we only had one computer that works this one specific task, it would inevitably break, and you’d just laugh ’cause you told those fuckers they better fix your computer. But you’re not laughing, you’re just fucking pissed because it’s MONDAY.

Then somehow this megadumbass doesn’t invite you to a very important meeting. The kind that must be done in person once each year or you lose your super special privileges. So now you have to make it up next Monday. The Monday you were going to stay home in the morning to watch the super important milestone first launch of the SLS to the moon with your husband. The launch yall had planned for years to go see in person but now Mr C doesn’t wanna go. Fuck it all. I’ll just go to this meeting instead. Not that they’d really take away the privilege that only two other people in the building have. I’d love to see that. Ha. But you don’t mess with security. Every office has their politics and at my office, they’re the mean girl club. So you don’t shake that particular boat. Even though they’re stupid bitches. For the record, they’re stupid bitches.

Ok, my car makes it thru work without going flat. That’s something. I’ll get groceries then swing by the gas station for air. Only the air pump is out of fucking order. THANKS. And the other gas station only takes quarters and you don’t even have cash. AHHHH. It’s ok. I’m cool. I’ll just get a car wash and use their air pump! Only apparently, they don’t have air pumps! Those things you assumed were air pumps are just air guns to spray you the crevices of your car. But now you’re trapped in the god damned line so you can’t get out. Guess we’re washing the car now.

If you have pressurized air guns at a fucking car wash, why not just make them tire pumps? Like one or two? Just one? No? Fuck you.

I have a headache and it’s not even over yet. I still need to go out to the garage and use the car powered pump to put air in my tires and hope it’s just a slow leak and not that I ran over something. Cause my car doesn’t have that fancy technology that tells you what tire and how much pressure it lost, it just has a indicator light that looks like a flat tire. It’s like me, goes straight to panic mode.

Fuck Mondays. I need a tylanol.