Just another manic Monday.....

So, here we are at Friday. And, with Friday in full bloom, I cannot help but reflect on Monday. Monday stunk, as Monday's often do, but with a little positive thinking, we can all have good Mondays. And, if I can say that, after the Monday I had this week, the rest of you have nothing to worry about.

You see, my Monday was Tuesday, proving Mondayitis is nothing more than a state of mind. This is a powerful truth. Ask anyone going back to work on Tuesday from a long weekend. Mondayitis is a result of the thoughts we put into the Universe about Monday.

So, my pseudo Monday, aka Tuesday, began like any other. The royal hounds deposited a veritable minefield in the front yard. The Queen Mother wobbled on her way to the kitchen, and grumbled about the sad state of affairs in the Universe, to which her daughter is in service, as its queen.

I took off in the Royal Chevy, with its broken gas gauge, destined for my fabulous job in the royal hamlet of Conklin. There are certain errors that are colossal, and create what is called an “epic fail,” and create an apocalyptic situation. What happened Tuesday morning was nothing less than absolute pandemonium. I ran out of gas at KAMIKAZEE CURVE. I failed to remember that the royal fleet needed to be refueled. And this isn't exactly and “oops”moment. This is an “are you out of your effing mind?” moment.

And, you Binghamtonians know the power of this error. Let me tell you, sitting on the shoulder at Kamikazee curve is the equivalent of the theme park ride from hell. You keep your hands and feet inside that ride, unless you want to lose them! Eighteen wheelers tear around the curve in a race to see who can get to Pennsylvania first. And let me tell you, you know when they've passed. The royal Chevy shook like Santa's belly, and your Queen just about crapped her royal knickers. And, as much as it pains me to speak of anything intestinal in this blog, I must. If you can run out of gas at Kamikazee curve, sit there for over thirty minutes, and arrive at work without needing clean underpants, you've got bowels of steel. Plain and simple.

Eat the burrito grande, because nothing can touch you!

So, I sat there, praying for my life, until my brother's car filled my rear view mirror. I had been saved! This man is my hero, and if I'm Queen of the Universe, this strapping (soon to be available) man is the Duke of Hillcrest. I have never been so happy to see another human being.

I finally arrived at work, grateful for the sheer pleasure of being alive, and thinking nothing else could touch me on this, the most powerful of pseudo Mondays.

I was wrong......

Check back to find out why..........