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I'm somewhere between the Bangles and the Boomtown Rats on my attitude toward Mondays (just without the gun). Too bad Garfield ruined Monday hating for everybody. (And why DOES he hate Mondays; he doesn't even have a job; that is so much more Dilbert territory)
Got up unaccustomedly early for soccer viewing at a local pub (open at 6 a.m. to serve full Irish breakfast and Guinness), then blahblahblah market library errands blah, then home to prep for a short-notice cocktail party at my place.
Operating on about four hours of sleep, so it's no surprise I burned three different ingredients (only one of them catastrophically so) before I gave up and decided we have plenty of food and no one will miss it if I pitch this dish into the trash. Shhhhhh, don't tell 'em.
UPDATE: This Monday has turned out surprisingly well; sold another little chunk of writing (with surprising fast turnaround on my proposal), resolved two other financial issues (but one large one is still awaiting my reluctant action) and did a little crafty kludging on my One-Size-Fits-All WordPress theme project, using actual snippets of php code without breaking everything on the first try. I would certainly like more Mondays like today.
And how did I forget the Mamas and Papas? I'm old enough to remember, but not old enough to forget (I hope). (Semi-Related Mama Cass Content)
And just a little warning for The Whelk and his hair: in the words of Tim Minchin, "once you go ginger, you never go... binger?"
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
photo by Kronos_to_Earth
photo by ethylene
