Monday, November 20

It's not you, it's me

I hate Monday mornings. Today's was especially atrocious. This morning was the kind that makes you feel that washing your face is a feat of humanity that ought to be submitted for the Nobel Prize in Physics.

There was no alcohol involved, no late night last night. Just the Run-of-the-Mill-More-Difficult-Than-usual Monday morning.

And when these days come, I hide in my gopher cubicle. I do Database work. I copy and Paste things. I do as little logical thinking as possible. Talking makes my head hurt, and blood runs from my ears. Please don't talk.

I'm sure I offended a few people with my less than enthusiastic monotone replies to weekend questions. BUT, I could truthfully say, It's not you, it's me.

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With octaves of a mystic depth and height