Monday’s a workin’ day!

The following is not for the faint of heart. There’s talk of bathrooms. Bathrooms, people! It's a regular movie of the week over here.

Monday's are always a bit of a shock to me. I wake up (never early enough) and realize that I've forgotten how to be a "normal" person while I was out doing my thing (read: sleeping) over the weekend. Even if I went in to work that weekend. Which I almost never used to do. But that's a whole 'nother post in and of itself.

Monday is probably the day when I have the hardest time convincing myself not to call in sick to work. Thursday and Friday also received votes, by the way, albeit for different reasons. This morning represented a good example of my typical Monday morning - I had to get up three times. By "get up," I mean I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and either, um, went into the bathroom, washed my face, or brushed my teeth. Then I thought about what I was going to wear to work, and then I got back into bed. I should have left the apartment before I actually got up the first time, if that means anything.


Well, clearly it means something - it means that I was freakin' late to work this morning, that's what it means.


So I obviously wasn't up to washing my face and brushing my teeth during the same trip to the bathroom. Noooo, that would be too much to handle. I had to fall back into bed and curl up in the fetal position between those trips. And boy is it a long trek to the bathroom for me. It's so far away that from the bed I have to use my right arm to toss paper balls at the bathroom garbage can - my aim with my left arm isn't reliable enough, I risk the trajectory being off just to the point at which I miss the shot and the call from David Stern never comes. Also, my left arm is weaker and the draft coming from underneath the windowsill always threatens to blow my shot even farther off course.


After I talk myself into putting on pants and venturing outside of the apartment, I have to deal with other commuters. And that's always dicey, because nobody's nice on Monday. Which is the reason I have to believe that I'm not the only one who has a hard time beginning the week. Monday morning is when I'm most likely to get knocked down the escalator by the people who clearly think that running down the stairs won't get them to the bottom quickly enough. Do you know what's at the bottom? A line to get to the tracks. I'm not talking about the escalator down to the tracks. I'm talking about the escalator down to the turnstiles. By the time I make it to the escalator going down to the tracks, the herd has been thinned out enough that no one's going to knock me over. No one I won't see coming, anyway. The train will then be late, and it will be packed, because it will have been late getting to the earlier stations (btw, it will late because I was late. That's how God works. Or at least it's how public transportation works.) Luckily I won't have to actively do anything from here on out, because I will be pushed onto the train by the 4'8" woman who either weighs 40 pounds, or 240 pounds, depending on which door I'm standing in front of, and pinned up between the guy who is obviously boycotting either deodorant or toothbrushes for personal reasons and the guy who holds the vertical support bar with his arm at a right angle from his body - not a right angle formed by his elbow, mind you, but at his shoulder. He will make the entire trip riding in this manner, holding onto the bar (which we refer to as a "guard rail" here at the zoo) on the right side of the train car while he stands on the left side. At this point in the day I always wonder, does he do this because his elbow doesn't bend? Because if that's the case I'd like to recommend he hold himself up with his other arm. It's probably a much healthier way for him to travel.


Once I finally extricate myself from the mass of limbs pouring out the door of the train, and fight my way up the stairs (or not - sometimes I wait for the main part of the crowd to go through. I pretend I'm still seriously injured and that I should avoid crowded staircases. And, really, shouldn't we all?) I make my way into the office and find at least one message from someone who got in to work way too early and already has a problem which they wanted me to have dealt with two hours ago.

And the reason that I notice all these things on Monday mornings is because no one acts this way over the weekend. People don't push as much, they don't hate each other as much, and they actually try to smell good on the weekends. Which is why Monday is so much more shocking than any of the other days. End note - walking down the street singing (and dancing to) "Manic Monday" is no way to make friends. I know because I've tried.

Things just don't happen as easily to a full-sized iPod.

Not that I'm complaining, but has this ever happened to one of you?

While at work yesterday, I realized that my Nano wasn't in my bag.
Usually, I would have realized a whole lot sooner than that, but just before leaving home yesterday morning I made the unprecedented decision to make the trip in *without* music. I thought my ears could use a break. So when I realized it was missing, I thought that I had probably left it in my locker at the gross gym I had been trying out, and which I had already decided not to join. This did not make me happy. I could call the gym, of course, but what are the chances someone would have turned it in? Plus, I wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't accidentally left it at home. As this gym is conveniently open 24 hours a day, I figured I could wait until I got home to call. So when I got home, I proceeded to rip apart the apartment. And do you know where it was? Up in the toe of my skinny little ballet-slipper-like shoe. It had been removed along with my gym stuff when I'd emptied my bag that morning.

The toe of my shoe? Seriously? I'm starting to think that the older woman I'd sat next to on the train home had the right idea - she did not give the appearance of one who is up on the newest technological gadgets, but she surprised me by pulling out a RAZR phone. And she had it in this huge case! Ginormous! But now, I realize, it was so she wouldn't lose it. Clearly. Because we have now reached the point where our "nifty" little gadgets have gotten so small we have to wrap them in things to make them bigger just so we can find them!

The people who design these tiny-tech. trappings are making a killing off of us. I'm not going to stand for it anymore.

So I'm asking that if any of you come across a purveyor of Get Smart-style shoe phones, please pick one up for me. Ditto with the giant, silver, boxy, early 80's-era boom box. And maybe a British license, so I can't put it in my pocket and lose it. Actually, forget that, how about a laminating machine so I can bring my license up to that size without engaging in international fraud? Then I will easily be able to find all of these important things in my giant purse. Because, as a friend of mine has repeatedly pointed out, my purse is huge. Apparently I'm been compensating for my ever-shrinking gadgets by buying inverse-proportioned purses. At least they're not sports cars . . .
And the boom box can go in my rugby kit bag, because Lord knows I won't be using that for much else anytime soon.

Fight the power!