I do. There’s something about Tuesdays. I hate them. Can’t tell you why. I can’t even tell you when it started. I can tell you when I started to notice. It was last year, right after Chris died. Every Tuesday I felt like crud. Even after I started crawling out of the pit, Tuesdays would always kick me back in. It came to the point I planned for being helpless and miserable on Tuesdays. (before you ask, no. He died on a Friday, and the last time I saw him was the day before, Thursday.)
Now I still hate Tuesdays. Most people hate Mondays, and I’m not fond of them myself. But Tuesday is the one that sucks for me.
::shrug:: Did I ever say I was normal?
Anyway, this morning qualifies for worst day of the week, I hope. I loved the storm that woke me at 5, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t love discovering two hours later that I’d left the windows down on the car. I didn’t love Hope throwing fits because I had the sound for the TV on, but not the picture. I wanted to keep track of flood warnings and such, she wanted to watch the moving pictures. She didn’t even care it was only the news.
Short story, almost an hour late to work, with a wet behind, and a wet gi to meet me after school, and after karate some icky fast-food meal and on to group, when all I wanted to do all day was curl up with a good book. (Harry Potter, anyone?) Sigh.