Mondays suck big hairy donkey balls

Between our Disney trip and the holidays, I worked very little in December. I worked about 10 days the whole month. It was so nice.

I got a little spoiled on vacation. I slept in every day. I never showered before noon…if I showered at all. The kids and I saw four movies…in the movie theater (Bedtime Stories, Bolt, High School Musical 3 and The Tale of Despereaux). We ate tons of buttery popcorn. And Christmas cookies. And at restaurants. We played games. We snuggled. I had a couple nights out with the girls…including a night out with a friend I hadn’t seen in more than 15 years (other than running in to her at Target right before Christmas).

It was wonderful. It was glorious.

And then, poof, it all ended. And I was reminded I really need to buy a lottery ticket.

That’s the bad thing about vacation. It ends. And you have to get back to real life. Even if you have to go back kicking and screaming. And I was kicking and screaming with a full blown temper tantrum.

Just to make sure today really sucked, the school decided to have a two hour delay this morning. Normally the kids are showered, dressed, fed, and out the door before I even get out of bed. I prefer it that way because otherwise they talk to me. I’m not a morning person and I don’t like people talking to me until the water from the shower head punches me in the face for a few minutes. But this morning everybody was here. And they were all cheery. Wishing me a good morning and telling me they love me like cheery morning people do. I hate that.

And to make matters worse they stole all the hot water. I got exactly four minutes of hot water. Four minutes does not a body wash. Let alone shampoo and condition very thick hair. And I like my water hot. Not luke warm. HOT. Steaming up my mirror, turning my skin pink HOT. Ice cold will not do.

Then, as I was walking out the door to start the long (ok, 7 minute) drive to work, Lee called. He wanted to let me know I probably didn’t have any gas in my truck. Great. Just what I wanted to do. Stand in the freezing temps for 10 minutes with my cold, wet hair forming icicles while pumping gas. But Lee surprised me by offering to meet me at the gas station so he could pump my gas. He’s such a sweetie.

Even though I tried to go slow, I beat him to the gas station. I really didn’t want to get out so I stalled. I sat in the truck for a little bit, pretending to look for my wallet in my purse. My purse that’s the size of a small paperback book (so very small). And the wallet that is sitting right on top and very easy to find. Made it hard to fake a search for money.

After a few minutes I decided I should stop being such a pussy and just get out to start pumping the gas myself. I unscrewed the gas cap only to discover there was no plastic thingy (a technical term) tethering the cap to the door of the gas tank. And then it occurred to me that even though we have owned this truck since April I have never once put gas in this truck.

As I was standing there holding the gas cap in my hand and wondering how I could possibly go 8 whole months without once putting gas in my own truck, Lee pulled up. When he walked up to me I held out the gas cap. “What do I do with this?” I asked. He looked at me like he was amazed I can find my way to work every day and pointed out a little ledge on the back of the door that holds the cap. In my defense, how was I supposed to see a ledge on the back of the door when I was in front of the door? There should be a sign or something. Or, you know, a little plastic thingy.

So Lee filled up my gas tank and sent me on my way, shaking his head at me the whole time. Good thing I’m married or I might still be standing at that gas station wondering what the hell to do with the gas cap.

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