Ahh, Monday. How I hate your guts.

I can already tell that I'm not going to be good at this blogging business. Everytime I start to write I get all wrapped up in trying to make my post sound perfect and witty and terribly sarcastic, like I'm one of those stay-at-home mom's who gets to write clever anecdotes about their kids and not like the boring 8-5er that I really am.

So...

I look like crap today. And unfortunatly, that is the most interesting thing I have to write about. I know you're dying to read on.

I tend to wear the same pair of khaki pants every Monday. I barely have time to heat up the iron, but I do it anyway, for posterity. I'm sure my co-workers have to hide their snarls at my pants. I mean, I don't even try to think of something more creative to wear. It's Monday. Khaki Pants Day. Why worry with creativity?

But probably nobody's looking at my pants today anyway. They're too distracted by the blueish-greenish-gray sacks that kindly lodged themselves under my eyes sometime during the night. I went to bed a tad bit too late and shared an all-to-fleeting relationship with the snooze button this morning. Neverthless, I did not make it into the shower, so my hair is a messy wad pulled back into a snarly ponytail. If that's a word.

I went comando on the make-up today too. Not a good idea, in hindsight. But am I to blame? It's a Monday.

If I were my bosses, I would fire me.