Today really feels like a Monday, the kind responsible for Garfield’s angst.
I dragged myself out of bed after hitting the snooze button more than once. I looked out the window to see rain and grayness. I remembered that Syracuse lost to Marquette last night in the NCAA Tournament. I drowned my sorrows in bacon and coffee, the highlight of my day thus far.
I parked on the street in front of my building yesterday because I had groceries to carry. As I walked down the steps to the front door this morning, I thought, “At least I don’t have to walk the extra block to the lot in this mess.” I got outside and saw a soaking-wet ticket atop the layer of snow (happy second day of spring!) that had accumulated on my windshield overnight. Emmaus does their street-cleaning from 7 a.m. until 9 a.m. Mondays. I was bound to forget eventually.
I am experiencing post-holiday letdown after St. Patrick’s Week. I am sore from the 18-mile run I did on Saturday. The yogurt I brought for lunch squirted all over my black shirt. Nothing majorly bad has happened (knock wood!), but I feel like this is a bad way to kick off a new week.
I’m going to try to turn things around with a home-cooked steak dinner – meat solves all problems, right? – and a relaxing evening of reading and Netflix. The sun will come out tomorrow.