It’s Monday morning and I’m at work. Which probably sounds normal to most people, but for me is akin to being placed on a rack and tortured with thumb screws. Not that I know what that feels like, but you get the picture.
See, normally I flex (in other words, I work 7-5:30, Tuesday through Friday), and Mondays are my day to do whatever I feel like. Sleep in, read, go shopping…whatever. And by the time I come to work on Tuesday, most people have gotten the normal Monday grumpies out of their system, and I’ve avoided the grumpies altogether.
Except today I’m here. Because I have to go to Sacramento/Davis for a couple of trainings. And usually I’m like, “Cool, I get to go somewhere. Woo-hoo! Let’s hit the road.” But it feels like I just got home and settled back in to a routine, and you know, I kinda like hanging out with Hamburger in the evening. So not only am I grumpy about working on a Monday, I’m also a little whiny about going out of town, even if I will only be gone until Wednesday night.
Aren’t you glad you’re not at work with me this morning?