TUESDAY WILL BE TERRIFIC ... RIGHT?

Mondays are rarely good. 

I start my day early, arriving at work forty-five minutes before I need to just so I can get into the copy machine before the kind but completely bat-shit crazy elderly volunteer arrives and commandeers the machine for the remainder of the day.  My favorite co-teacher emails me that she cannot attend my class today because she has to prep for the upcoming state testing that happens next week, which means, in short, that she is abandoning me with the minions.  I am reminded that I have a meeting in school that I forgot about (and must madly run around prepping for) and a meeting after school that I knew about but am trying to forget.

All the while, it is raining out, a complete deluge, and the sound of the rain pounding on the roof, usually soothing, unnerves me to the point that I put on Pandora radio through the ceiling speakers.  Each class today consists of some on-my-feet teaching and some group work for the students, during which I rapidly grade their homework and hand it right back to them.  I sneak a cup of tea, Constant Comment brand, in between my late school-day meeting and my after-school meeting, but it doesn't help; I still start dozing during the Powerpoint presentation at the faculty meeting.

When I arrive home finally, I decide to pay some bills and get all of my financial ducks in a row.  The trouble with bills, other than the fact that they suck up my money, is with the envelopes.  If only all the envelopes were the same size, getting them ready to mail out would be easier.  I never seem to have enough spit to lick the envelopes well enough for them to stay closed, so all of my outgoing mail has tape on the back.  I have stamps, amazingly enough, so I tag everything and collect a pile of envelopes to go out to the mailbox in the morning.

I decide to go to the post office Monday evening instead so I can actually find a space and so I can step into the unlocked lobby and mail the stuff directly.  The entire errand, including driving to and from the post office, takes about six minutes, and I am relieved and pumped when I return home knowing that Tuesday morning won't be a run-around shit-show on my way to work.

Finally.  Finally!  Ahhhhh, the day is over.  I can sit down, relax, have some dinner -- Wait.  Wait, wiat, wait, wait, wait.  What the ...

Oh.  You.  Asshole.

Sitting all by itself in the middle of my kitchen table is one of the bills I just supposedly paid, left behind when it slipped out from between the other envelopes sometime during the tape and stamp process.  No, I do not go out again.  It will have to find its own way in the world on Tuesday or maybe Wednesday.  Thursday, perhaps. 

So much for my productive Monday, which is fine because now it's Tuesday, and Tuesday will be terrific, right?  Just agree with me; I'm having a tough start to the week as it is.