I’m sure this has been brought upon by me constantly referring to how awesome Mondays are ever since I became a full time stand-up, but it appears today has taken that statement and reworked the concept of Mondays so it can fully kick me in the face with a triple punch of misery. They say all bad things happen in threes and so I can only hope that the law of Sod is done with me for one day and I continue with my life without sighing and tutting my way through to tomorrow.
Shit thing 1: Layla has a really bad cough. Its not her fault and there is a large part of my that sympathises with her about this. However, I only got home at 2am last night and at 3am, the coughing fits started. It was a pattern, albeit with irregular pauses, but enough consistancy to make sure neither of use would sleep for some hours. Large cough, large cough. Pause. Small cough, large cough, large cough. Were I not so tired I would have made it into a typical 80s electro beat and get a Danish man to rap over it while a fat woman with a soulful voice tell you that the Rhythm is a Dancer. Instead we both got annoyed with it and I tried to be helpful by making Layla a cup of honey tea, and eventually she chose to sleep in the living room so that only she would stay awake which was lovely and selfless. However, our bedroom is adjacent to the living room and so I could still hear: large cough, large cough. Longer pause. Large cough, large cough. More like a slow samba. POW! Hit of misery 1!
Shit thing 2: After eventually getting some sleep and having a bit of a nice lie in on my first day off in a while, I got up strolled to the kitchen to make my usual first cuppa of the day, only to find a tsumnami of cat sick had covered the floor. There was so much of it I was concerned that either several cats had all joined in on some sort of ancient Roman toga vomiting party or that perhaps one of my cats would now only be an eight of the size it previously was. Either way, it took me at least two hours and some retching before I could even consider breakfast. Thanks pets, thanks. SMACK!
Shit thing 3: The way our flat is designed is that its on the ground floor and has a gate under the arch of the stairs for the flat upstairs, before you can even get to our front door. We also have odd removable bars on the windows, presumably because the previous owners were very paranoid. I’ve always hailed this as meaning our flat is burglar proof, and more importantly, completely safe should there be a zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately – and its a big unfortunately – it means that when I am tired and being a complete fucking idiot and lock myself out, that I am completely without hope of getting back in unless someone brings me spare keys. It also means that I have to maneuver myself in a possibly groin damaging way to climb over the gate infront of our door or remain trapped in a tiny cage until freed. I managed to do this, and upon discovering that my parents were no way able to get me the keys for at least an hour, and realising that Sod had ramped up the ‘fuck your day o’meter’ by making it snow, I trekked to Layla’s school to get her keys. Thank god she only works 4 tube stops away. Thank god I allow her keys to our flat like a modern kinda guy huh? Huh? So finally I’m home and warm, an hour after I left to pop to the bank that’s 2 mins walk away. WALLOP!
Its a shame really as today was to be the relaxing climax to a very busy week, finishing with two lovely gigs last night at Sheffield Hallum Unversity and Sheffield University last night. Both were truly ace and my favourite moment was leaving the latter when a group of students pointed and shouted ‘there he is’ before applauding which was nice. Then to entirely demean that one of the girls shouted ‘you heading to Mordor?’ This was referencing a hobbit gag from earlier and I must say, I was completely impressed. So today was to be ‘at home day’ for writing, some tidying up and generally not driving anywhere, but as it seems to have gone I may as well go back to bed, put some sort of circle of brimstone around it and chant incantations till Monday is banished back to whatever hell hole it came from.
As I’ve been typing this I’ve been chomping on a spinach pastry that I thought tasted a bit odd. It appears it had mincemeat in it. There goes 29 years of vegetarianism. Fuck you Monday. Fuck you indeed.
