Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Song for a Crappy Tuesday

Tuesday didn't mail the Netflix like he said he would.

Tuesday said said she'd make coffee but she didn't and now you have to go to work without caffeine.

Tuesday pushed in front of you when you were getting on the bus.

Tuesday blamed you for the toner being low in the copier, even though she's the one who sends weekly 27-page-dead-tree memos to everyone the office.

Tuesday ate the half a meatball sub you brought for lunch.

Tuesday corrected your grammar in front of the boss, and your boss agreed with him. They were both wrong.

Tuesday says almost nothing, but clears his throat at 45 second intervals all day.

Tuesday bumped into you and you dropped your train pass. When you picked it up (after, not one, not two, but three false grabs on the sidewalk) you saw the train pulling away and Tuesday was in the window seat that should have been yours.

One day, Tuesday will get his comeuppance. His tiny, aggravating comeuppance.

But not today.

You are getting your tiny, aggravating comeuppance. Whose Tuesday were you?

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