monday threw up on the porch again; now it’s tuesday

So if you beat a Monday hard enough for long enough, it’ll finally begrudgingly give up and go away, dragging most of your joy right along with it. But then Tuesday. Oh, Tuesday.

Tuesday is that dreaded family member who shows up late at a holiday dinner, his bags packed in the car and his wheezing old pet iguana in a cat carrier held together with bread-bag twist-ties, a sob story that may be a sham, and no job or home to go back to — and you the only one at the table who hasn’t been stuck with him yet.

And as one, the room turns, and looks at you.

Good luck, in other words. Good friggin’ luck.

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