I don’t want to talk about it.

It’s only 5:02am and my Monday so far SUCKS! First of all, let me say I am very thankful for my health, my daughter, my job and all my blessings. And now let me gripe about my Monday.

I was so proud of myself. I got up for work on time. I didn’t stress for 30 minutes trying to figure out what I was going to wear. I had my ish in gear and I was out the door in time to be in the makeup chair at 4:45am, as requested.

garbage-can-tippedI backed my car out of the garage and into the alley, which is where I found my garbage can tipped over and all of its slimy, rotted, wet contents splayed out on the concrete. So I slammed my car in park, threw open the door, and in the pitch black of the pre-dawn, I used my hands to scoop up as much of it as I could. When I got down to just the itty bits, I ran back up into my garage, grabbed a broom and a dustpan, and swept up as much as I could. My neighbors who are more sensitive to things that go bump in the night were surely entertained by the flurry of F-bombs I was spitting, but it will be nothing compared to the F-bombs I’ll be spitting when some self-appointed neighborhood watch spokesperson tapes a note to my door explaining how good neighbors don’t leave garbage bits in the alley to attract rodents and disease.

So now I’m officially going to be late to work. I jumped back in my car and as I was rounding the first corner to leave my neighborhood, a mosquito darted in front of me and started bouncing off the inside of my windshield. I made a few failed attempts slapping at it, and since the thought of being trapped in a car with a blood-sucking skeeter brings me to the brink of a panic attack, I rolled down all my windows and hoped the force of all that wind would suck it back outside. After driving a couple miles with strands of hair slicing into my eyeballs, I rolled up the windows and hoped for the best. Now, I didn’t notice the mosquito anymore, but a big fruit fly whizzed by my ear and smashed into the windshield and then slid down into that abyss between the glass and the dashboard. The windows went back down, whipping my hair back and forth the rest of the drive in. You can imagine what I looked like by the time I got to work.

And THEN, to top it ALL off……somebody was parked in my parking space. NO, it’s not an assigned parking space, but there is this unwritten yet (mostly) understood rule that THIS IS KELLIE FREAKIN’ RASBERRY’S PARKING SPACE!!

And NOW, I really don’t want to talk about it any more. Let’s start this Monday over again, shall we?