Garfield was a Stripper

Of course he was! He hated Mondays with a passion, and now I understand why:

  Because they SUCK!

Sundays I travel home, sleep on the bus, meet daddy and bubs at the car and we all make the drive to the house.  Its half adrenaline, half excitement at seeing them again that gets me through those last 2 hours on the bus.  I should be sleeping at that point, not jostling about with drunk Irish backpackers with ukuleles.  I pay for that on Monday.

Mondays, hubs is up and off, mercifully at 8 now, not 7. But still.  By 7:45 he is gone and its just bubs and I and a lot of laundry.  (How do they make so much? Its a mystery.)  Each and every Monday morning I feel like a sloth with a tequila hangover.  My body is still adjusting to the 12 hour switcharoo I am playing and unlike at the stripper house where I can sleep off the dozy bit, here there is stuff to DO.  And of course, a baby who is now go-go-go. Today Hubs wanted me to print off his resume/cover letter at the library. A mere 900 metre walk away.  It didn't happen.  I just could not stomach the idea of hauling my tired sore grumpy self that far and dealing with people.

Its 4 now.  It took until 3 p.m. for me to feel normal-ish again.  I'm afraid that this is going to be a regular occurrence.

Hmmmm? Is it weird that I want to change my stripper name to Garfield?  Everyone always forgets Nikki anyway....