You know what? I love Mondays. Normally. I love Mondays because the weekends exhaust me, in a totally good way, and I love Mondays because working fulfills a need in me that child-wrangling and housecleaning and yard work do not, and I love Mondays because it feels like a start, and starting is good. Fridays are awesome because you’re all like, “Whee! It’s the weekend! Pour me a bottle of wine!” and Saturdays are great because you can spend the whole day doing things that don’t really have a timeline and are pretty fulfilling themselves, like making a mirror wall:
{Aside: the mirror wall, which replaced a hodge-podge of framed photos and a knick-knack (sp?) shelf, might be the best thing to happen to my body image in a looong time. Who knew that randomly catching a view of yourself making dinner in the mirror (that is, after you stop thinking that there is someone else in your house OH MY GOD) and thinking, hmm, I don’t look to bad, actually, would make me feel better about myself overall?}
…and also staying up late to drink G&Ts on the couch with your husband, and Sundays are nice because they are lazy and especially relaxing this time of year because the kids play in the backyard:
… but also stressful because we all need a good night’s sleep and what’s for lunch tomorrow and what time are you getting up for work and are the school bags packed and and and anticipation of the week. Sundays are the end of the week, not the beginning. Mondays are the beginning. On Monday, I am optimistic about the week ahead. On Monday, I think of all the fun things to come, all the work to be done. On Monday, I am mostly happy.
But today, today can just go straight to hell. Oh, the morning was fine, even though I got up early and Tony was already gone to work. The kids woke up a bit late, I had made Nun’s Puffs and they devoured them. The weather is nice. The drive was terrible, but with the bridge out, you’re gonna have that, as my dad would say. No, the problem is that I have been fighting ever since I walked in the door at the office. Our payroll service provider is fucking terrible, and the numb-nuts 401k branch of the same provider has me making irrational pleas on the phone with them. “Please, I’ll chew a finger off if you would just fix this so I can file payroll. A thumb, then, I’ll chew off a thumb. Please, what do you need from me? A dish of my blood? Anything!” Oh, we’re in the process of switching providers for both, but these things apparently take DECADES to process. So now I am locked out of my account online, even though I still have to file payroll there, we are all locked out of making changes to our 401k deductions even though changes are necessary, and NONE of the representatives I talked with on the phone were any help whatsoever. Companies like this and the people who work for them make me despair of humanity as a whole. Are there really so many incompetent bozos out there? Well, yes, I seem to talk to them on the phone all the time. Are there really companies out there that would, through ignorance or just bad management, make it so hard for their customers to do what the program was designed for them to do? Apparently, yes. Let me ask you this: if you had a payroll company, would you schedule routine website maintenance at the beginning of the month, a time when most of your customers submit payroll? No. Of course not. But this company did.
I’m in a sort of “pull my hair out and scream while kicking a wall” mood right now, and I just realized that Tony will be gone all evening for softball. The bridge situation has made it nearly impossible for him to drive the four miles home from his office before 6:30 pm and he has a double-header almost right after that. I don’t have a dinner plan, but Charles has been begging to make cookies for a few days, so maybe that will redeem this worst of Mondays.
Cookies, take me away…
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