A Serious Case of the Mondays

To Do:

I rolled over sleepily to turn off my alarm clock. How could it be time to get up already? How could it be Monday already? Then I noticed there was a wet spot IN my bed. How could that be? I reached my arm out from under my warm covers into the cold morning air to feel if the wet spot had come from the top of the bed. My hand met with the culprit full on: dog vomit.

I had just pulled the comforter out of the plastic bag fresh from the dry cleaners the night before, and now every layer of my bedding was soaking with dog vomit. I swore out loud, pushed the covers back, realizing painfully there would be no hitting snooze this morning, and put one foot out of bed and straight into a cold pile of dog diarrhea. I swore again, only more loudly, as my dog scurried from the room.

It was dark and cold. I like to sleep with my window open, especially in winter. I hobbled on the heal of the foot covered in feces to the bathroom sink while holding the hand covered in dog vomit up. I washed my hand and then my foot in freezing cold water. Next I turned on the lights to survey the damage. There was a massive brown puddle all over the floor next to the bed with a trail leading out of the bedroom.

I swore again.

The worst part about mornings like this is trying to wake yourself up to be coherent enough to map out a good battle plan for fighting dog poo stains.

I made my way down the hall to find the faux carpet steamer cleaner (just add hot water), and the fight to find all of the bits and pieces began. Where had I put the cleaning solution? Why the deuce was it downstairs instead up upstairs where the cleaner was?! I hate myself in that moment. Where was the Re.solve Pet Stain cleaner? How was I ever going to get this out?! "Calm down. This isn't the first time you've gotten diarrhea out of the white berber. You can do it again."

On my way down stairs I noticed my dog is a complete maximizer, as she managed to cover some serious footage with diarrhea drizzle all throughout the house. All the way down the stairs (and in the middle, I might add), all around the dining room table (yes, she walked 360 degrees around the table), through the kitchen, and to the back door (where she undoubtedly realized she was done needing to go outside).

As I cleaned, I realized my dog was really sick. She never throws up. Diarrhea isn't a big deal, but the runs coupled with vomiting is a bad sign. I began to think of what she could have possibly eaten and wondered whether or not this would constitute a trip to the vet.

Flash back to last night when I gave my daughter a bowl of grapes. "Just make sure you don't give any to the doggies baby. They will make them sick."

Another profanity.

Grapes are toxic to dogs. As few as seven little grapes can kill a dog. They shut down a dog's liver. Luckily I knew this because I knew in that instant my dog was going to the vet to have her life saved.

Ten minutes after I should have been at work (I texted my PM an hour before to tell him I would be late and why), I was on my way out the door with my sick dog and newly soiled clean comforter. I wasn't too worried about my pooch because she was acting normal. Then I talked to the vet and broke out in a cold sweat. He informed me that they always seem fine in the beginning, but they get worse as the hours go on. It was a good thing I knew to bring her in.

At 11:00 I couldn't take the wait anymore and called the vet to see how she was doing. All of her blood work had come back good. I had gotten her there soon enough. She was on IVs to replace her fluids and was being given antibiotics intravenously. They didn't want me to come get her before 6:00 at night, so as to prolong her IV time and prevent the need for her to be kept overnight.

At 6:00 the Munchkin and I showed up to pick up a very happy-to-go-home Mags. I paid the bill, all the while thanking the heavens I had pet insurance that cut my bill in half. I then grabbed Maggie's meds and took her and the Munchkin home. Once there I had to go over the biggest stain in the carpet with cleaner one more time. Mags returned to the scene of the crime while I was cleaning. I looked at her and said, "All that matters is that you are okay."

Thank heaven today is over and my dog is going to be fine.

P.S. In case you are wondering, yes the picture above depicts my Christmas tree being shoved up a GE Engineer's backside. More on the story behind that later.

A Case of the Mondays

To do:

A Case of the Monday's

To Do:

This Monday was an extra special one. It started out like any other over the past week with my being awoken by Cak.e's Typew.riter (which, by the way, I'm not sold on being woken up to). But the difference today was I got to dawn blue jeans and a comfy, casual-ish shirt. I had to be out of the house by 7:40 because I wasn't heading to work, I was heading to jury duty. Oh yeah, good old jury duty.

Guess what? I'd rather have my foot stuck in a bear trap than go to jury duty. Okay, maybe not, but I really didn't want to go. At all. Some people were envious I had been called, others thought it would be fun, and some were of the same opinion I was, Ugh. I'm all for juries, as long as I'm not on them. I think they're important, so they should want people to be on them who are willing to be on them and who aren't just there out of civil duty or the fear of being tossed in jail for being held contempt if they don't show up.

I showed up on time, barely, thanks to traffic coming to a complete halt several times on the freeway despite the fact I was going the opposite direction of commuting traffic (which did not help my mood [did I mention I'm PMSing today?]). I walked up the marble staircase to the jury room and feasted my eyes upon hundreds (yes 300 of us) of other lucky juror candidates. I checked in, made my way to an empty seat, and waited. Over the next two hours they read over reasons we might be exempted from serving today, and then told us they only needed 72 people. They began calling out the names of the first 20. I laughed to myself as I thought, "I won't be picked simply because they won't be able to say my last name." Just as they were getting ready to call the remaining 52, they told us the case had been cancelled and we could all go.

HURRAH!!!

At 10:00 on a Monday morning, I was free! I had absolutely ZERO intention of going into work. I called DH to tell him I had been dismissed and asked if I should go to work. He said he would. Yeah right, who doesn't use a Get Out Of Jail Free pass when they have one? So I went and did my grocery shopping. After I got home and unloaded, I called my dad, who also told me if he had gotten out early, he would go to work. Dammit! I felt guilty. I needed to be at work. I had deadlines, but, but.... By 12:00, my butt was in my desk chair and my computer was booting. I hated myself for the next 5 hours. I seriously wanted to kick my own butt.

Although today wasn't my typical Monday, it was definitely a Monday, as evidenced by my walking into Subw.ay at lunch and ordering a 6-foot sandwich, instead of a footlong. Wow. After a bevy of other brainless things today, I decided it was appropriate to put, "Stop Being Blonde" on my list of things to do this week.

Happy work-week ya'll!

A Case of the Mondays

To Do:

I woke up this morning to a new CD. My daughter had taken my Frank Sinatra CD out and run around the house with it. Rather than try to find it, I put in the sound track to Or.ange Cou.nty. I was a little perplexed when Ca.ke's Ty.pewriter started playing to greet me to another Monday morning. What had I done to deserve yet another weekend disappearing into oblivion all too soon?

You know the drill. I got out of bed, got ready for work, and all that jazz, but today was a little different. You see, Hubs and I had a semi-argument this weekend about whose fault it was we had been getting out of the house between 7:45-7:50 during the week, so today neither of us wanted it to be our fault if we weren't all out the door by 7:30. The stink actually got up 20 minutes early just to try to beat me! And then he didn't do the Munchkin's hair in anyway that would keep it out of her face for more than 5 minutes. I made him wait until I could pull it back into some braids before he whisked her off to daycare.

I got into work feeling pretty good for a Monday. Made myself a blueberry English muffin with butter, but before I even had the chance to sign into IM, I got a meeting request to remind me today was the Q2 Quarterly review. Dag nabit! Can't a girl take a second to gear up for her Monday before being thrown into meetings?!

The review was a joke, and I had to try not to scoff through half of it. Morale at my company is pretty low, what with their recent downsizing of not only our shoe boxes, er cubicles, as well as staff. Then the VP talked about how proud he was of Gary's team for launching their product on time. *SCOFF* *SNIGGER* *Try not to choke on your own spit please* Gary may have released on time, but let's just say things have not gone swimmingly since he did because he rushed the project rather than taking the time to do things right. Way to go Gary. Pat yourself on the back... with a mace....

By the time that painful meeting got over, it was time for the meeting with Gary's team. The one in which I doodle the lovely To Do List above. Shortly after I walked in, so did Gary. The meeting commenced, along with said doodling. At one point something was said that made me want to give the commenter a serious high five. After it was said, I looked at Gary to see his reaction (because I was sure it wouldn't make him happy). Gary looked like he had been hit by a bus. His eyes were all blood shot, he looked like he had aged 10 years, and he looked like complete crap. It shocked me, but I actually felt bad for him. I wondered what was going on that would cause him to look so horrible. I even thought about asking him if he was okay. (Holy shnikies, I was going to ask if he was okay!) I didn't though.

My day went on, and I muddled through. The company provided lunch, as they do with every quarterly review, and I enjoyed the company of one of my two BFFs, J. Together we snarfed down chips and salsa and enchiladas. All too soon, it was over and we were back to work. But the best part was yet to come!

At 7:40 tonight, I headed out the door for an hour-long massage. Oh yeah baby! Who is the smart, sexy gal who thought to schedule herself a massage at the end of a Monday? That would be ME because I rock like that.

Can I just say, the massage was AWE-SOME! I gave up each and every muscle to the masseuse's fingers. I didn't fight her touch once, no matter how uncomfortable some of my muscles were. I let her take each and every knot. Then she got to my feet, and holy cow I was in HEAVEN! She worked my feet like they have never been worked before. She rubbed each little piggy up and down and all around, and it felt so incredible. I don't remember the last time my shoulders felt as loose as they do right now. I only wish it would last.

That brings us to now, my favorite part of a Monday, sitting in bed, blogging, and getting ready to say good night to all the world. And with that, I bid you all good evening.

P.S. Today's effigy is me holding Gary The Snake by the throat as an arrow pierces his side while telling him to, "Testify!". Next to us is a sequence of clocks in which time stands still, and then goes backward during the wrong part of the day.

A Case of the Mondays

I really enjoyed doing my post last week entitled, "A Case of the Mondays" and have decided to try to do a weekly post, complete with To Do list from work. Without further ado, I present you with this week's Case of the Mondays.

To Do:

This morning I woke up to my usual Frank Sinatra ballad and hearing about how I'm just too marvelous for words. I valiantly fought off sleep, and swung my feet over the bed while I rubbed my eyes and wondered how in the world it was Monday already. I had just fought the workweek battle and just barely obtained my weekend reward, and already it was being snatched from me.

I blundered through my morning routine of washing my face, getting partially dressed, putting on makeup, battling my hair, and finishing getting dressed. Apparently DH and the Munchkin were having the same kind of morning because we all stumbled out the door at 8:00. Have I mentioned I'm supposed to be at my desk at 8:00? Oops.

Fifteen minutes after leaving the house, I was tip-toeing past my PM's office door, hoping he wouldn't see I was late. I sat down at my desk, booted up the old computer, and got my morning under way. Before I knew it, it was time for my weekly team meeting. Into the conference room I strode with notebook in hand. The meeting started... and then it kept going... and going... and going. I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten yet. It felt like eons had passed. I wanted to doodle on my notepad, but this meeting is small and intimate, so it would be too obvious I wasn't really listening if I did. Instead, I jotted down the things I really needed to this week. Before I knew it, it was time for my next meeting, and I got to leave my current meeting before it was over.

On my way to the next meeting I snagged a cereal bar from my desk cabinet and glided down the hall with a coworker to the oober fun meeting of the day. The one where Gary, my arch nemesis is supposed to be present. Shortly after I was seated, the fun began. I looked around the conference room, and then quickly began to jot down my other To Do items for the week, such as invest in Fo.cus Fac.tor and avoid Gary.

Gary.

Where was Gary? I stopped doodling to look around. The jerk was no where to be seen. Inside I laughed evilly. It was MY turn to give HIM hell for not being there this week. I wrung my evil hands and thought of how I could ride HIS @$$ for not being there.

Almost as quickly as it began, the meeting was disbanding, and I was free to begin my work week.

Now if only I could concentrate.... I sure could use a bottle of Fo.cus Fac.tor.

Somehow I made it through the day. It helped a great deal that I was able to go to lunch with two of my best friends as well as hit the office supply store when the network my documents are saved on went down and caused my software to crash.

By the end of the day there was only one thing I had forgotten to do: Invest in Fo.cus Fac.tor. Tomorrow is another day.


And yes, the snake in the picture is my depiction of Gary, and I am on the left with a gigantic club....

A Case of the Mondays

To Do:

Oh yes, this is actually my To Do list at work for this week.

I woke up this morning and dragged my groggy butt to work. I didn't get to sleep until around 12:30 last night, as the Munchkin has her second case of daycare-induced pink eye in a week, so I was up soothing a crying toddler a few times during the night.

As soon as my butt met my desk chair this morning, it was all I could do to keep from falling asleep. I reached under my desk and grabbed my last two frappuchinos, cursing that they weren't already cold. With fraps in arm, I grabbed my water cup, hair brush, and straightening iron. That's right, I do my hair at work. I just can't get myself up that extra 10 minutes early to do it at home.

My weekly team meeting had been cancelled, due to my PM being out of the office today, but never fear, an even more boring, gruelling, and long meeting stood ready to take its place. Better yet, that meeting happened to be with one of the three people in this world I can't stand (those three people are Gary [from work - not his real name], BIL, and Crazy Dog Lady - in that order). Gary rode my @$$ all last week because I missed the Monday morning meeting due to my need to be home with a daughter who was sporting pink eye and a fever. I made it a point to give him "The Look" as soon as I sat down. "See you jerk, I'm here. Eat that."

As the meeting coordinator droned on, it was all I could do to stay awake. I was so glad I had gone to Ein.stiens and grabbed bagels for J and I before I got sucked into the meeting void. All I could think about was how I was going to make it through the day. To help keep myself conscious, I tried to think of funny things. The first thing that came to mind is the new Kr.aft Mac-N-Cheese commercial that makes me laugh my butt off every time I see it.

The commercial is set at a modern family Independence Day-type party setting where Thomas Jefferson is present. The hostess asks Thomas to taste her mac-n-cheese. He does and then proceeds to throw a fit, claiming she stole his recipe. He stomps over to a table covered in food dishes with a bunch of balloons tethered to it, and in a he rage pops one of the balloons with a fork and then kicks over the table. Its hilarious. I couldn't find it on yo.utube, or I'd point you in the right direction.

That commercial is the reason not stealing Thomas Jefferson's recipe is on my To Do list. It is currently a work in progress. Happily, however, I was able to check off the items: Make it to lunch; and Get through Monday. That's about all I was able to check off though. Oh well, at least I made it!