OY to the sobcrysob VAY

OY to the sobcrysob VAY

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So after awhile you come to accept that Mondays are just not your day, you know? But you may forget that they are also sneaky. Oh yes. And after being awake for 20 minutes without catastrophe you should really not assume that you have escaped its evil ways. This is a mistake that you will pay greatly for. Umm, like over and over and over and such.

And also, Hi! Have you noticed that all I’ve managed to do lately is complain? And you are back here reading anyways? Do you not realize that you are encouraging my whiny behavior? Do you feel just a little bit guilty right now?

So there I was. Going through the morning routine. I grabbed my towel and stomped on into the bathroom to do the whole shower bit. Of course Remy came flying in before I could shut the door (What is it with cats and doors?) and looked at me like, “Ha!”

I whipped open the shower curtain and OH MY GOD JESUS SAVE ME.

“Remy!” I screamed while pointing in the direction of the demon from hell, “Pounce! Attack! Be catlike!” Remy looked balefully towards the spider and proceeded to wash her paw.

I ran out into the hall looking wildly in each direction. I do not know what I thought I’d find. A man to magically appear and save me? (This was Monday’s way of reminding me that I am 37 and never married and live alone all emptynesterlike and such). So I cruised around until I found my heart and then I did what must be done. I snapped the photo below for evidence. I figured if this was to be the very end of me there ought to be evidence so that my loving family members would know what led to my horrific demise. Then I put the spider smashing shoe (oh like you don’t have one for just this purpose) on the end of the broom and carefully stepped through the glowing demon doors of the bathroom to where the evil lay…

And much squealing (me) and squashing (the spider) commenced.

Well at least the “Ah, must be a Monday” incident had come and gone. I made sure to say, “Hey Monday! Good job. We’ll see what you have for me next week.” This was a mistake. Of the big and oh so terrible sort. You do NOT thwart Mondays! Oh what was I thinking!

Also, do you realize you are reading the blog of a fugitive from justice? That’s right! My license tabs expired at the end of May and I have been right there on the roads with you anyways! Fear me and my bad assed illegal ways! So I figured that being nearly a month late was pretty much asking for trouble so I cruised over to the Department of Motor Vehicles on my lunch hour and waited in line for eleventyseven hours.

The lady scanned my drivers license and in an, “I am so completely bored and hating my sucky job,” voice asked, “Which car do you want tabs for?”

“Umm. The Mazda 6. You know, the only car I own?” I responded.

“I have a 2004 Mazda and a 2003 Honda listed for you,” she said, still not looking at me.

“Well that’s a mistake. I have never owned a Honda. Please take that one off and give me tabs for the Mazda,” I requested.

“You do own a Honda. It says so right here. But you don’t owe for tabs on that yet,” she explained. “Looks like you updated those in April.”

“Look! I do not own a Honda! Seriously! I wasn’t here in April and I do not know what you’re talking about!” I said all hands on my hips and such.

“You’d better go to the State office then,” she advised. “My job doesn’t include changing records.” She printed out the information on the other car, my receipt for the way too expensive tabs for the real car and a map to the state office, all without ever actually looking at me.

I did my time in line at the next helpful “aren’t you glad you pay your taxes” office and explained the situation.

“So you’re telling me this Honda isn’t yours?” the state dude asked.

“Yep. Never been the Honda type.” I explained.

“But your name is Wendy XXXXX?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“And you are in fact the real Wendy XXXXX?” he questioned.

“Umm. Yep.”

“Welllllllll now. We have a little problem.”

“Ok. Fix it. Please and thank you and such,” I responded.

And the next thing I knew a COP was all step this way ma’am!!!! For the love of God I just wanted tabs! Turns out somebody registered a Honda in my name in some MN city called “Lake Crystal.” This same somebody bought tabs in April for the Honda in the city of “Mankato.”

And just to make it all ever so much lovelier and fun this same SOMEBODY has been involved in a hit and run.

So there I was, all “Look officer I don’t own a Honda! I have never lived in Lake Crystal! I have never lived in Mankato! And yes I am me! I am the me that has never owned that car or lived in those places or been in a hit and run and I don’t *sob* even *sob* have a *sob* parking ticket, and I wear my seatbelt and I am SORRY I was late on my tabs but this is ever so wrong and not my fault and I had to kill a spider ALL BY MYSELF this morning and the state is being MEAN to me and now I’m late for work, and are you going to arrest me or something? *sob*”

“Uh no. Just write all that on this paper, minus the spider incident, sign it and date it. An investigator will contact you in the next few weeks. You may have to go to court to get this cleared up. So the spider was pretty big, huh?”

*sniffle* *pout variation #7* “Yes.”

So then I stopped in the skyway for a sandwich to take back to the office and it came to $5.95 and I handed my visa to the lady and she said, “Oh we can only accept cards for 6 dollars or more.” So then I was all “Fine! Throw in a brownie but any new fat cells are on YOU lady.”

And so then I went back to work and changed my blog blast to, “Y’all are not even going to believe this,” and you know what? That’s Monday Thwartage type behavior and it was NOT done with me yet. No.

My family is out of town and playing at the lake without me because I couldn’t find a dog sitter. As such, I get to be the cat sitter for them and kill their plants while they’re gone. Well. I always lock my car no matter where I go, making sure of course, that my keys are in my hand. I showed up at my brother’s house and decided not to bring my purse inside because I wouldn’t be there long. I just wanted to finish the day, go home, and enjoy my “I have earned this because my day was so harrrrd” brownie.

So. Keys in hand. Lock the door. Proceed. Right? Only the KEYS that were in my HAND when I locked the damn DOOR were for my brothers HOUSE. And the keys to the car were in the car right next to my cell phone. Oh Monday! Why dost thou hateth me so? And it’s not as if I could call anyone for help from my brother’s phone because I am a modern woman and program everyone into my cell phone and for the love of god I do not even have my very own boyfriend’s cell number memorized! *sobcrywhymesobcry*

So 2 hours later the locksmith dude tried to get me to hand over 150 bucks and I was all, “OH HELL NO.” And he was all “Ok 125.” And I was all “You do not know the day I’ve had.” And he was all “100?” And I was all “You may leave now.” And he was all “80 dollar just for you pretty lady. Last offer or I go.” And I was all “FINE.”

So then I FINALLY got home and by now my dog had exploded and was obviously having stomach issues and it just SUCKED and don’t you feel AWFUL for me?

And to top it all off?The brownie melted in my eleventyseven degree car.

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