It was going to be a whole new day. Fresh start.
Before I opened my eyes, I could feel the prickly, virulent beginnings of a cold sore.
The groceries that fit in the cart while I was shopping didn’t after they were bagged. I had to steer a dangerously overloaded cart through a rutted parking lot, with 5 bags of groceries cutting through my forearms. All the while squelching extremely uncharitable thoughts about the 2 year old who yelled “Go faster!”.
The digital cable box was frozen. We only got one channel. All day. It was a travel channel, that runs the same 3 hours of insipid programming (with bonus 80’s Moog synthesizer background music!) on a loop.
Knock myself out, really cooked, instead of reheated. Put the kids to bed. “What’s that smell?” inquires the girl, as I gently brush her hair off her head. “Your finger smells like supper. Supper was BAD!”
A collection agency thinks I’m lying, that my name really IS Gerald, and that I’m just a really bad liar. And they’ve got all the time in the world.
Fine, you fucking week, be that way.