Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

(I hope you know from exactly where the title comes.)

Yesterday wasn’t necessarily a terrible day, and I hate to join the masses and get all complainy about Mondays. But yesterday was Monday X-TREME. So extreme that the e of extreme just gets in the way, rendered useless in the expression of how off the charts Mondayful it was.

I’ll try not to go into exhaustive detail, but the contributing factors were: 9000 things to get done at work, staying very late at work despite my best efforts, forgetting that March 22 was staff evaluation day, the heat in the lab so high I might have suffered heat stroke, getting bad results on a straightforward experiment, the absolute necessity to do a minimum of three loads of laundry, no time to fix dinner, headache edging on the definition of migraine, and the inconvenience of only 24 hours in the day. Sorry, sorry for being self-centeredly complainful. Not my intent, I promise. I did manage to get a 4.5 mile run in after work, which helped. It also jammed my Monday night schedule pretty tight though.

ANYWAY. I don’t want this post to become a shrine to one magical event that turned around my whole outlook on the day and caused the heavens to open up and dolphins to jump through glittery hoops with laughter in the air. I’m still just as disgruntled about the 40+ hour workweek as the next worker.

But I should probably draw your attention to Exhibit A (ignore the fact that it's sitting on a chair in a messy apartment):

Knowing of my MONDAY XTREME, Jeremy quietly knocked on my door at the beginning of Skype Homers, came in and laid this fresh, hot Middle Eastern feast before me, then quickly bowed out (please note the homemade hummus and fresh falafel).

BOOYAH, Monday. I have a Jeremy, and I had a good conversation with Rachelle, and I slept with vengeance (medicated, yes, but still). How I wound up with such rare people in my life, I will never know.

(Sidenote: I find it mildly obnoxious that the off-brand meal-replacement nutrition shake prefers to have WEIGHT LOSS SHAKE proudly plastered on its label in such a large font. There’s nothing I want my coworkers to know more than where I sadly shop AND that I’m drinking a weight loss shake. Maybe it’s not for weight loss. Maybe I just didn’t have time to make lunch (which is true) and that I shop thriftily (which I try to make true). Thanks again for the classiness, Wal Mart.)