Monday, Sweet Monday. The Bastard.

Oh. It's Monday. I've decided that I should post here every Monday and Thursday. The theory behind that is that I'd have all weekend to come up with something to write. And here it is, Monday. Um, didn't write anything bloggy-related over the weekend. Yay?

So, it's Monday, rather like Manic Monday, except it seems that this particular Monday is ubiquitous in its bastardry. I thought it was just me! I suppose I could whine about the litany of how rough my Monday was, starting with having to rescue my roommate from a pack of aggressive dogs, nearly getting into a car accident on the way back. and coming home -- finally! -- to make a pot of coffee, because coffee is the life.

Coffee pot was broken. Lucky I had a French Press; lucky my roommate was able to get a hold of me, lucky that my ride didn't break down, lucky that I was going slow enough around the corner to not hit or get hit by the truck coming down that way . . . So many things that could have gone wrong if one small factor had changed. I mean, really -- if I hadn't had the French Press? I'd've been SCREWED. Seriously -- if I want a decent cup of coffee 'round here, I have to make it myself. It's half an hour to the nearest Starbuck's.

But then I heard about some of the crap my nearest and dearest had to contend with this Monday: A car that didn't start; the news that it isn't pre-eclampsia, but it's the crap that's going around and it's driving her blood pressure up; a myriad of things that make me think about how fortunate I am.

I guess that's why I write fiction. Schadenfreude. Sort of. I have to feel Schadenfreude about something, and it really isn't cool to rejoice in other people's misery, so I have to make up people who are miserable just so I can giggle about it, guilt-free.

Now it's time for me to get back to my coffee -- I got Almond Joy flavored creamer for it, and it requires my attention.

(Okay, now I have to figure out what I'm gonna say on Thursday . . . let's hope it's not as exciting as today was!)