Screw you, Tuesday

19 Mar


Let me just tell you about how my day started.
It was shitty.
I didn’t fall asleep until after 2am and that was only with the help of copious amounts of Xanax. I was sleeping hard, but as the morning crept in, the dreams began. Crazy wild dreams. They were slipping into my brain between snooze sessions. It was awful, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. In three nine minute sessions I discovered Man was cheating on me by polishing another woman’s toenails.
Mint green. What the hell? St. Patrick’s Day is over. Oh, and I knew the woman, and while I don’t not like her, she and I have no real relationship. Bizarre.
Upon seeing this I took all of my husband’s military garb and set it a blaze in our yard. While he is running around like a Banshee trying to put it out, I am half sobbing, half crying about how he never touches my feet.
Yes, ladies and dudes, I had a meltdown because my husband was polishing another woman’s toenails in my dream. I suppose it was exceptionally hurtful because Man always professes his disgust for feet and I love to have my feet massaged. It hurt my heart (that cold, dead one) and it started my day off in a funk.
By the time I shook myself awake, I was already running late and I had to attempt to tame my hair. I only blew it out last night with a paddle brush, so there was no style and the ends were a fright. I got dressed and put on some blush and mascara and ran to the kitchen to make my coffee.
Man was actually up and had let the dogs out and fed them and such, which was really helpful. I scrambled to defrost and heat a croissant, grabbed my bag, kissed Man goodbye and jumped in the car.
Two miles from work I reach for my coffee in my cup holder, only to find it empty.
At that point it was abundantly clear that my day was going to go to shit.
Four days until the weekend. Keep saying it.


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