A Letter

Dear Monday,

Thanks for kicking my ass into next Tuesday. In the future could I please have at least a 12 hour notice that you are going to be smothering me with every twist and turn a day could take all before my coffee has kicked in. I did not appreciate the volume at which you greeted me nor how early you arrived. I thought the joke that I was going to be opening the store instead of the one scheduled was rather uncalled for. The fact that my tummy was angry could have waited until I was off the clock. If you're the one who sent the memo to all those customers telling them to bombard me at the same time this morning, you need to be taught some manners. And if you could pass on the manners lesson to those whom every morning don't say please or thank you, that would be much appreciated. I'm really sure you couldn't have at least emptied the dishwasher or picked up a little while both Chuck and I were working our tails off. And in case you hadn't guessed it, we were not friends until about 1:30 this afternoon. And I'm still hesitant to allow the rest of my day to be joyous, in case you spit on that too. If you could talk to Tuesday and tell him to up the ante for tomorrow and make it less stressful and more light and breezy, the way a spring day, work or not work, should be, I'll consider allowing you to be back on my good side. Feel free to grovel, send a rainbow my way, or have the trees start to bud. Those things are a good start to redeeming yourself.

Sincerely,
Me