Did I Mention That I Hate Mondays?

This is definitely Monday.

You’d think that after taking a three-day weekend (I was out Friday to take care of the girls), I’d be all rested and ready for the week.

First, I forgot my ID card, which means (at least in theory) that I can’t get into the building. Fortunately, I was able to sneak in from the garage behind an unsuspecting coworker (how I’ll get back into the parking garage is another story). Second, I forgot my lunch; normally, not critical, but remember, I couldn’t reenter the building were I to exit. And third, I just noticed that, having dressed in the dark this morning, I put on blue socks. White shirt, black pants... blue socks. And not subtle, close-enough-to-black-that-people-won’t-notice blue, but definitely blue.

I think I need to call it a day, go home, get some rest, and start again tomorrow.

That’s if I can keep myself from turning on the convention coverage tonight. And while I’m singularly unexcited about the convention — sorry, but there’s no actual information to be learned, and I was never much of a cheerleader — I do suppose I’m at least mildly interested from a strictly escapist entertainment standpoint.

Of course, once all the state delegations start opening their official awarding of delegates with ten-minute diatribes on the glories of their particular territory (“Shut up, Guam!”), I know I’ll be tuning out.

(P.S.: Credit where credit’s due — the Guam line was Kori’s. I’m just stealing it ’cause I’m too demoralized to come up with something on my own.)