Gaaah, Monday

Working since 7:30 am and I still have things to do.

Being a grown-up sucks.

I blame you.


58 Comments on “Gaaah, Monday”

  1. I require some adult perspective in the superlative science fiction works I consume. I consume yours, ergo you are required to be somewhat grown-up to meet my needs. In between I allow time outs for continual sunrise/sunset imagery and sledding video. Otherwise I would be stuck with whatever science fiction my 11 year old may be reading. Or Michael Crichton.

  2. * Do not confuse “duty” with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect. -Robert A. Heinlein

    Some days a person has lots they have to get done before it’s time to bring in the cows, some days not so much. Sorry you’re having one of the latter, but perhaps you can find some joy in a job well done or at least a job done.

  3. Explain myself? At my age? What would I know about adulthood – it’s perfectly clear that despite decades of practice, I haven’t even mastered my adolescence yet!

  4. Go ahead, blame me…everyone else does. I’ll post another apology over in the “Wisconsin and Labor” Blatherations if it will make you feel better! ;)

  5. “When Joy and Duty clash,
    Let Duty go to smash.” Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm..Kate Douglas Wiggin..
    But then you might end up like Edward VIII and that is a slippery slope to venture down…Carry on..

  6. I work for the government. My job is to make people miserable. Further complaints will result in revocation of IT privileges, forcing you to complete your work on a manual typewriter. Any complaints received after this will result in the typewriter being removed and a clay tablet being provided.

    You have been warned.

    Please have a safe and productive day, citizen.

  7. What? Just like that? I can’t … I mean, I’m a very complicated person. Sometimes I’m nice, and sometimes … I’m nasty. And sometimes I just want to sing a song about a goblin.

  8. I’m not an adult but I play one in real life.

    Seriously, I’m not the only one out here who still feels like they’ve snuck into a bar with a phony ID and are trying to act cool so no one realizes were still a kid?

  9. It’s not my fault. (yes, yes. I understand the difference between fault and assigning blame, but still….)

    (And how’m I supposed to explain myself to someone else whenI can barely figure out what I’m doing, much less why? Today was ‘easy’, as neither of the kids had school (which of course engenders difficulties of its own), and rehearsal was cancelled.)

  10. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, who isn't going shopping for pet food at 9PM

    Hunh. This has been one of the better Mondays of my recent memory or life. Whichever comes first.

    In fact, I was thinking that if I could bottle this day up for future use I would do so regardless of cost.

    Apparently it was also a good day for the dude at Rite Aid as he got digits from not one but two gurls. And one of them was not even half bad looking, according to him.

    Have a better one, John.

  11. Wait wut? I didn’t do it I swear! I was dead at the time! And I was with Steve! We were both dead at the time!

  12. I’m pretty sure the vibe I was sending was take a break and order some of that new and improved Dominoes.

  13. I’ve only put in around three hours of work today!

    (Which given that I get today off and put in a bunch yesterday and the day before, is worse.)

    Damn jury duty is conflicting with a job that can’t be put off for two and a half weeks.

  14. School out. Spent most of day in bed/on couch. Now know all about Inglip. Still have work to do too, but don’t care (also, it’s fairly quick work that I will do after the kids go to bed – being as I’m all well-rested and such).

  15. What, me? I was paying the plumber 120 bucks to retrieve plastic items the kittens dropped down the bathroom drain. One of which plugged the pipe so perfectly I’m amazed it ever got past the trap. Amazing what you can do with a carefully placed glue pen cap.

  16. I’m afraid that someone had to pay the piper for my day of slack and consumerism (spa and shopping). And, well, sir, that was you. I’d apologize but it wouldn’t be sincere. If it’s any consolation, I look fabulous!

  17. Dave H – I can see Canada from my house – Aging dad, electronics nerd, embedded software developer. (I'm the guy who makes your microwave blink 12:00.)
    Dave H

    Explain myself? Well, okay.

    See, back in 1959 a man and a woman in Ohio loved each other very much. So they decided to… um. On second thought, maybe you should ask your mother.

  18. well you see, only adults are capable of creating coke zero, and only adults are capable of generating the cash required to build a pool of demand that can afford to pay for it being viable to produce. Therefore, if you like coke zero, you have to grow up.

    Don’t blame me though I drink Irn-Bru, and for that you have to have someone who thinks colouring a drink radioactive orange is cool, and the childish persistence that convinces others to buy it for you because I’ll pay them back when I have the readies, honest pal.

  19. Of course it’s my fault. As a teacher, I’m a public employee. Therefore, I must suckle at the teat of your success for my sustenance, as the parasite that I am. I thought you were paying attention to what was happening in Wisconsin, and didn’t need me to explain this to you!

    And as you work, thank you for the week off I have for mid-winter break. Most kind of your hard-earned tax dollars.

  20. #12: I like your style :-D

    John: I’d explain myself, but I can’t remember who I am, how I got here, and what we’re all doing on this big watery rock called (I think….) Earth.

    Have a great day!

  21. I ran out of gas. I, I had a flat tire. I didn’t have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn’t come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts. IT WASN’T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD.

  22. I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I spent all day hanging out with my wife and daughter at Balboa park and seeing “Gnomeo & Juliet”.

    Being an adult is awesome, sometimes!

  23. Sorry, no sympathy here, we do neither presidents or president’s days up here. And I was at work at 4:30am your time. (/whine)

  24. Being an adult means sucking it up sometimes.
    Other times, you get to go back to being a kid. This is not one of those times. This is one of the ‘suck-it-up’ times.

    I didn’t do it. It just happened.

  25. mcgregorcastle – Greater Manchester, England – Suffered substandard health all my life as did my mother and her family a bit part of that for me is iodine deficiency. I grew up in Vancouver, B.C. Canada an Brit who got there aged 5ys it didn't work for me and I came home in 1989 but got really sick within months and I now realise the long haul flight combined with my already low iodine levels kicked off Cushings for me I came close to dying in 1989 and although the Nhs let me down since I am grateful they bought me time. I really wish I had known about raw garlic then as it would have stopped this thing in it's tracks and saved me years of heartache I have lost some of the best years of my life to this. I'm 50 in the Autumn I was 26 when it struck. though I had tonsil problems (iodine deficiency symptom) very young and they were removed at 13ys then nurological problems but a CAT scan when I was 14 found nothing so it was left at that but I'm sure the tumour was growing even then and I had weight problems even though I hardly ate.
    Ms T Drummond

    Sounds like u need the day off, u are dismissed. See u 2 morrow…early & fresh

  26. Frank Cote – I am an aspiring Writer, new father and general layabout who hopes to one day write words that people will care about or at least be entertained by.
    Frank Cote

    I want an explanation as well. I have a new house, a new wife and a new baby. I’m 40 and I still feel as confused and clueless as I was in my twenties! What the hell?

    Now, I face the daunting task of faking it for my daughter’s sake.

    Did our parents fool us this way too?

  27. Kelly Naylor – I read. A lot. And I write, and do art, and sing (but don't dance), and contemplate the great questions of the ages.

    Mind control. It appears to be working. Excellent.

  28. Frank@50: Did our parents fool us this way too?

    I’m sure they did. The neat thing is that if you ask them again, they might decide it’s okay to tell you the truth now. Look for hints–When I was about 30, my dad said, “I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a lawyer until I’d been one for twenty years.” That was when I started to suspect they were just faking adulthood.

  29. Let’s see… on Monday, at 7:30am, I believe I was, as per usual during the Standard Work Week, outside, carrying a leash, with my dog attached to the other end. As per the season where I live, my fingers began to freeze. This happens because my dog is convinced that the other dogs in the area have it out for him, and in light of this realization he has devised an ingenious defense: the carefully calculated placement of his bowel movements. It takes time to figure out where they should go. An inch one way or the other could be catastrophic. Gloves? I could. But I live in a community area, and so I must clean up after the pup (fortunately this has no effect on the line of defense). Small biodegradable bags, knots, and gloves do not mix well together, nor does juggling gloves, poop bags, and pooches, most especially when there’s a squirrel in sight. Thus I endure the slow freeze while my dog works his little tail off to keep himself, and doubtless the rest of his family, safe.

  30. Just because I was born 3 1/2 years before you does NOT mean that I grew up first.

    Blame yourself for growing up prematurely.

    Then again, I guess you could blame me and my arrested development.

    Yep. I’m a slacker, and so was my dad: Mr. McFly.

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