"Americans used to say where there's a will, there's a way. Nowadays, it's where there's a pill, there's a way out." - - Burnt Toast

Monday. . .

Any of you that read this blog with any regularity know that I have a rather tumultuous relationship with Monday.  I think Monday is a poison devil, an imp, a demon of magnificent proportion which should be disemboweled with a rusty post hole digger.  Or, maybe if I could just have all Mondays off for infinity, we could dispense with the unnecessary violence.

This Monday I knew was going to be a tough one, as the last several weeks of work have been a dog-paddling struggle to stay afloat in a raging river of inadequate contracting practices.  It is a simple wonder that we are able to make our daily schedule, which is a living, breathing monster in it's own right.  So, last night I was preparing myself mentally for a tough day that was going to start bright and early at 4:30 a.m.

But then. . .allow me to introduce the ubiquitous stomach virus.  Oh man, and a good one it was too.  Yet, thankfully it was one that only liked to take the elevator up instead of down, which saved me a miserable day at work today.  It was hard enough struggling with the waves of nausea, but it could have been a lot worse in retrospect.  At one point I just threw up my hands and my stomach and screamed "Balls!"

And there might be some medical validity to sweating a bug like that out in the hot sun, although I'm sure the contractors I visited today could have lived without the projectile vomiting.

I lived.  Now it's nap time.

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