I really couldn’t wait for Monday to be over. Monday’s are my least favorite day of the week, next to Thursday’s, naturally. Thursday has never personally done anything to offend me, but it’s just standing in the way of Friday. I think Thursday, if it were a human entity, would suffer from middle child syndrome. We’d have to listen to it whine about how Wednesday got the cool, suggestive nickname and is touted as “Ladies Night”. It would probably accuse everyone of “liking Friday more than me” and brood about it being the start of the weekend and having the best happy hours. I bet Thursday would sit around complaining that it never got as much as the other days of the week and tally up everyone else’s Christmas presents.
Monday really threw me for a loop. I woke up thinking I should probably just stay in bed; but I couldn’t, I had to get up and face the world. I got my son to school in a timely fashion with all of his required supplies. I realized at about 1:30 A.M. Monday morning that I forgot to purchase him a tan pillow case for a project at school. I’m not sure why Ms. Patty requested said pillow case, or if it’s something found in most American homes these days. About the time my son turned two, I stopped purchasing household linens in any shade lighter than Chocolate Brown. I’m fairly sure it is going to be used for a Thanksgiving related arts and crafts project, and I didn’t want him to show-up without one. I am thankful for 24-hour Wal-Mart and am now the proud owner of one, standard size, tan pillow case…if anyone is on the market for such an item, because they only travel in pairs.
When I arrived home from dropping him off, I set up my laptop on the porch and poured myself a cup of coffee. Usually, by the time I get settled, coffee in hand, my laptop has gone through all the appropriate beeps and whirs and is ready to get down to brass tacks. Today, there was no beeping and whirring. My laptop must have passed on peacefully, sometime after I used it to log on to the Victoria’s Secret Website the night before to do some virtual window shopping. I really don’t care about the PC itself, it was old, suffering from elephantiasis and memory loss. I am hoping that the hard drive can be salvaged. If it can’t, I have lost the majority of my son’s baby pictures and beginnings of a really awesome book. Lesson learned here? Victoria is secretly a murderous, thieving bitch.
I used my phone to look up replacement laptops, found some really good deals, then remembered I am poor…and do not have an extra $500 lying around to spend on anything. Thanks Monday. It’s funny, I forget I’m poor all of the time. I am still in a gainfully employed mindset. Even though sending out 20 resumes a day is not a paying gig, it’s still very time-consuming. I was contacted by a recruiter today, in the midst of trying to revive the laptop and telling my son to stop trying to ride the dog. After asking to speak with me very clearly, they claimed to have the wrong number and hung-up. It could have been the fact that I was yelling quite passionately “She’s a big girl, but she’s not a horse. Get off of her back, you’re going to break her hips!” who knows what kind of asylum they thought I was running here. If nothing else, I have a budding career in running off would-be employers.
By the time I accepted that there was no amount of turning the laptop on and off that was going to save it and I’m an idiot for not backing up my most precious memories of my son, my boyfriend called. He was in a crappier mood than I was. Sometimes relationships are a beautiful thing, sometimes they are a maddening cluster-fuck that make you wish you were deaf and mute. Today I selected what was behind door number two. I’m not exactly sure where the conversation went south; I was distracted momentarily by my son tugging on my t-shirt and asking if he could have the lollipop he already had unwrapped and in his mouth. I said “Ok” a few times, and suddenly was in an argument. My boyfriend evidently thought I was talking to him. I tried to bring the conversation back to a happier place with some playful teasing…but, it was too late. I should’ve tried the wrong number thing on him, called back and started over. Whatever we were fighting about seems to have worked its self out, but I’d be lying if didn’t admit to wondering what I said that was so inflammatory in the first place.
Tomorrow, at pre-school, I will more than likely be sporting a black and blue bruise encircling my left eye. My son accidentally delivered a pretty substantial blow to my face while trying to escape putting on his jammies. It was the perfect way to end the perfect day. I’m considering having a button made that explains that I am not a victim of domestic abuse; just the mother of an excitable anti-bedtime protester, so people won’t get the wrong idea. I’m also considering running away from anyone that approaches me screaming “Stop hitting me!”. Just to see how many people throw their wallets at me in panic and confusion, it just might work.
In the meantime, I’m going to try to put this day, with it’s losses, quarrels and head injuries, behind me with the help of beer. Bring it on Tuesday, I may be battered but I’m coming out swinging.
