Monday, Monday

I am not a fan. I am feeling particularly cranky this morning and I think the best form of therapy may be to lament about this day of the week that I do not like. I woke up this morning with my eyes pasted together from pollen that has been making my eyes itch and water constantly since spring arrived. I stumbled into the kitchen after I got ready and there was NO cream for my coffee. I was fully aware that I need to make a trip to the grocery store, but this was a most unfortunate turn of events. You see, I hang on to my mug of coffee as I am driving to work for dear life, it's a habit now, a "blankie" for the ride into work, a way to make it all seem better. Ask Rich, I start on Saturday morning saying "I don't want to go to work on Monday, don't make me." This has been going on for say, 10 years now (I just hit my 10 year Anniversary at my job, ugh!). Rich just pats me on the head and patiently says, "I know Honey, just a few more years." I don't know what he means by that. A few more years before he can't take it any more and smothers me in my sleep because he is so sick of me saying the same thing all weekend or a few years before we come into some kind of inheritance or lottery and I won't need to work. I can't get a straight answer out of him. I don't like to talk in the morning and Rich can't understand that. It's been almost 26 years, so I am not sure what part of I don't want to talk to you in the morning he doesn't get. His eyes open, his mouth starts moving. He now calls me Helen Keller in the morning. It doesn't hurt me, it just means he is starting to get the idea. He must be a slow learner. It's now almost 9 a.m. and I have been at work for close to an hour. I will suck it up and face another Monday just as I face every Monday, looking forward to Friday at 5 p.m.