What color was your Monday?

If a mood ring graced my finger right now, it would be the color of pissy. 

I am pissy.  Pissy pissy poop poop poop.

That's how I feel.  It's just one of those days.  Yes, I am in a mood.

And yes, this is my second post in a row in which I have used the word "piss."  I'm hoping for an R rating by week's end.  Though I'll probably just cement my PG-13, because these aren't really dirty words.

I am vowing right now to be in a better mood first thing Tuesday morning.  Soooo by the time most of you read this, I'll be chipper and full of sparkles.  But this is still Monday, so deal.

It started with these damn Perfect Post Awards.  I was surprised at myself when I turned on the computer this morning and was disappointed that I had not been nominated for one this month.  Yep, that's right, I am admitting my envy.  My green eyed monster reared its ugly head and pissed all over my morning. 

When am I going to write something good enough for these?   

And why do I care?  It's all just imaginary hoo-ha floating around in the ether, but still!  After a while, I'd actually started hoping that maybe someone would notice one of my posts from June and I'd have a shot this month.  Ugh.  I've only had this blog for five months so far, but just ugh.

I'm fairly certain that you are seriously not supposed to hope for this kind of stuff.  Flotsam and jetsam that exist only within the internet and are *poof!* gone as soon as you turn off your computer.  And yet...  there you have it.

To be certain, I don't write with this kind of attention in mind.  Quite the contrary.  But then I can't deny that it's sort of exciting when people start to notice one post or another, and then you see these little sidebar bling widgets passed around and it sneaks into your brain after the fact.  You think, "Well, maybe this month..."  

And then your mood ring turns the color of piss. 

And you totally deserve for it to do so.

 

I am embarrassed for myself to even be writing this, to be hanging my dirty laundry out for all to see, but honesty honesty honesty.  It's a bitch.  And my bitch has green eyes.

(For the record, I am totally proud of my blog buddies that did receive the Perfect Post Award this month and every other month.  Really.  This isn't about you.  It's about me being a brat.)

The rest of today was just true Monday.  I'll try to make this quick:  I had to pay bills.  I couldn't finish my Mary garden because it just won't stop raining.  The computer crashed twice.  Once I thought I'd lost all of my digital photos and it took three reboots to get them to load again.  My international eBay customers decided as a collective that they were all incapable of using the international shipping calculators and all needed 40 batrillion shipping quotes.  Cheeks was teething.  Pants kept hitting Cheeks on the head, totally on accident, but it didn't matter.  The a/c in our bedroom/laundry/storage room (which is really just the garage; don't get me started--  I hate hurricanes.) quit working.   And no one wanted to take their naps.

Oh, and let me not forget the best part, the final insult added to injury...  wait for it...  this really sucks, I promise...  you are so going to feel for me if you ever read this blog on a regular basis...

Ready?...

...   ...   ...

...   ...

I missed the circus.

Are you crying for me?  I have been talking about Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus coming to town for months now.  Months.  We waited to buy tickets because we thought we had the hook-up, as we usually do, but kept the final show dates in mind so we'd have time to buy tickets if we needed.  Finally, today, I decided that I couldn't risk it and would buy the tickets before the show left on Wednesday.  If we ended up with two sets of tickets, I'd be more than happy to go twice.

And then I found out that the circus left yesterday.

Yesterday?!  I am usually so anal about these kinds of things (surprised? ha.), that I just can't imagine how I got the dates wrong.

I am crushed. 

So no circus for me.  Pants will have to wait a million years to get to see dancing horses and the flying trapeze.  A million years, I tell you. 

Pissy pissy poop poop poop.

So there you have it.  My Monday.  But tomorrow will be better.

***   ***   ***

Hey, tomorrow really will be better.  I just walked into our bedroom/laundry/ storage room/ garage/ hell hole we call "at least it's not a FEMA trailer" and found my husband doing the laundry.

Surely this is a sign from the gods that Tuesday will be a better day.

Now I'm taking my piss-colored imaginary mood ring to bed with me in hopes that it will turn the tranquil blue of the liquid fabric softener smell that is wafting through the stiflingly hot heat of our master suite.

Sweet dreams.