Or as my hero Elvis Costello would say “Welcome to the Working Week.”
Mondays for me are a reminder of my soul-killing unemployment. Each one that passes is yet another nail in my I’ll-never-find-a-full-time-job-coffin.
Mondays are also the start of my weekly ritual of conjuring up possible revenue-inducing plans. I start with sketching out how a meth lab could work in my kitchen. I have the room and the time, so why the hell not? Oh wait…I need to lose a few teefus FIRST and scatter some dirty chirrun with full diapers and mange about the place for the full effect. That dream quickly dies, however, when I harken back to the investigative story I did years ago about meth, the sorry state of this nation’s drug policy and the ridiculous mandatory minimums for small-time offenders. But this is a rant for another post–maybe–if I’m up for it.
On a happier note, Mondays give me hope too, whether it is through an interesting job lead in my in-box OR something completely different.
Oh. Mah. Gawd.
How fucking cute are those bunnies?
I think it’s time the IOC looks at Kaninhoppning as a possible Olympic sport.