Monday September 08, 2003

I hate Mondays. I hate Mondays.

I hate Mondays. They are frustrating, unholy days that never fail to leave me feeling like a slug tortured with table salt by the neighborhood brats. I woke up tired, unable to sleep more than 3 or 4 hours last night. I came to work only to have 37,864 students asking me questions and needing my full attention. I have an army to train this week in the lab. Yay. I left work with this nasty ringing in my ear, and came home to a pretty scary credit card statement, a bill from my school for a class I've signed up for, and my rat nestled comfortably in my dirty laundry basket after stuffing himself with a meal of denim and black t-shirt. This day, pardon my French, sucketh like no other day can. Mondays, I hate Mondays. Every last one of them.