Damn Tuesdays.

I think it's pretty common knowledge that I hate Tuesdays.  If I could skip them altogether, I would.  It's a wasted day that generally leaves me wanting to cause people great bodily harm.  Today is no exception.  The damn shame is, there's not really a good reason for me to be crabby today.  I just am - it's like the Tuesday curse.  At least at this point I can sort of laugh about it.  So, some of you may know that I have had a bad case of the exhaustions lately.  We're not talking kind of tired - we're talking I can sleep for 10 hours and then turn around and take a nap because I'm still tired.  No, I'm not depressed.  Yes, I realize this is a symptom of depression, but I can assure you that's not my problem.  I've also been a dysfunctional water faucet....as in at any random moment I may burst into tears for no apparent reason.  Now, I am pretty sure I know what's causing both, and I will deal with it, but for now, let's focus on the exhaustion and tears, mostly because it will probably amuse you.

Last night after procrastinating on a paper that was due (of course) last night, I finally managed to take myself to bed at around 10.  Yeah, I know some of you stay up until midnight or later, but I read this study once that said people with larger more active brains need more sleep - so stick that in your pipe and smoke it, biotch!  Who's laughing now?!?!  Anyway, I went up to bed and get all cozy and as per the norm, my daughter comes flouncing in about 20  minutes later.  She tells me she's going to get up at 6:15.  Sounds ok, right?  WRONG, but there's nothing I can do about it so I rolled over and went to sleep. 

Of course, I was awakened at just after 3 this morning as my lovely daughter was sleep walking/talking again - only this time in my closet.  -___-  Frickin kids.  Got her back to sleep and I went back to sleep.  My alarm went off at 5:30.  I shut it off - as is also the norm lately since I can't seem to get enough sleep.  I got up at 6. 

If you know me, you know I am not a morning person.  I'm like a raging dragon in the morning.  It is best to leave me the hell alone until I give you the all clear.  That's why I like my mornings at home - everyone is sleeping and I have roughly 30-45 minutes to pull my shit together.  Right, so, I'm in the shower working on the getting nice process and my daughter comes in to go to the bathroom. *sigh*  Fine.  She finishes and goes downstairs.  I carry on with my morning routine only slightly perturbed.  Until she comes back to get some lotion.  Yeah, totally jacking up my routine which makes me fail in the getting nice process.  After the 3rd visit to the bathroom I gave up.  I half-assed put my make up on (read:  looks like the bride of frankenstein today) and rush to the bedroom to find clothes. 

Well, of course, nothing can go right, right?  So, I can't find what I want to wear so I pull out some of my "fat" clothes.  You know, the clothes you wear when you feel like a beached whale.  EPIC FAIL.  It's a great feeling when you put your fat clothes on and they cut off your circulation.  Right, so now I'm too fat for my fat clothes.  F.M.L.  Can you see how my day is going??

I walk downstairs to leave.  Phil notices that I am off and asks if I'm ok.  I think I sorta shook my head or something, idk, but I left.  Got in the car and decided to call him - who better to talk to when having a rough morning than the love of my life, right?  Yeah, that would have worked if he had answered his phone.  *shrugs*  I figured he was probably going to the bathroom so I gave it a few minutes.  In the meantime, a coworker/friend, shot me a text that she wasn't coming in...BOO and people were driving slower than normal.  I called Megan to see if she could get her father for me, but of course, she didn't answer either.  I called Phil about 3 more times and then walked into 7-11 to get a Mt. Dew.  HAHAHAHA, so the guy that hits on me in there ALL the time looks at me and says, "rough morning?"  He's so lucky I didn't sucker punch him.

I get back in the car and call Tracy - my friend and neighbor - to ask if she can have her boys let Phil or Megan know to call me.  Megan finally calls me and I tell her to get her dad for me.  At this point, I'm pretty irrate.  I just needed someone to talk to.  So, I snapped at Phil and hung up on him and then walked into work and had a mini-tantrum.  Thank goodness no one was here.

I'm calm(ish) now, other than the fact that I can't breathe because my fat clothes are too tight.  I could use a nice cold glass of wine, too.  And yes, I realize this blog makes me sound manic and slightly unstable, but the reality is - I probably am. 

You're welcome for your laugh for the day.