Most of my opinions are unpopular, but this is one that most people oppose. I like Monday’s waaaay better than I like Tuesday’s or even Wednesday’s. I’ve talked about this before, but it was 13 years ago when I started this blog, so I think I can duplicate an opinion every once in a while.

Garfield can come at me for that, because I’m not scared of him, so bring it. Garfield. Like I’m scared of a cat that eats lasagna. I had a dog that ate lasagna too, and I wasn’t afraid of him either. I wish all the Monday holidays were switched to Friday’s, or like Thanksgiving, switched to Thursday and Friday. Weeks that start with holidays coming late in the week mean you can cram all your work into the shorter week and then relax. The Monday holidays are make you cram the whole week after your holiday, which means you should have just come in anyways.

The reason why I love Mondays is because everyone else hates them. On Mondays, I’m groggy, but so is everyone else, so no one wants to talk to me, or do work, because they are all “catching up on things that happened over the weekend”. Everyone is a little slower, and all say that they will put things off on Monday until Tuesday. In my opinion, Tuesday is the worst day, because that is when the “workweek” actually starts that’s when everything they put off until Tuesday happens.

The reason why I’m ranting about how great Monday is, is because, I had an unusually bad start this Monday. I took Thursday and Friday off last week to attend my mom’s funeral. Excuse me for taking a few days off of work and blogging for my mother. I’m sooo sorry.

Anyways, on weekdays, I usually wake up at 4:30 am and go for an old guy run. An old guy run means…walking a lot interrupted by short bursts of running. You can call it Walk Interrupted, or ralking The worst part of the ralk is actually preparing for the ralk. It takes almost as much time and effort getting ready for ralk that the actual ralk.

First, it involves taking a monumental effort just to lift myself out of bed, then another colossal effort to walk to the living room.

Then comes the hard part. The hard part is pulling all the clothes on while dealing with all the pain that it took to get a “good” nights sleep. I slowly strap on the sweat vest, then bend over and get the knee bands on, then the sweats, then the hardest part, the socks. That involves bending and stretching in ways that my inflexible body isn’t ready for at 4:45 am. Next, I go find a sweatshirt, put on a winter beanie, and then winter coat, and finally gloves. It’s winter still and it’s fricking cold out there.

By that time, I’m already panting and sweating, so I almost always consider skipping the ralk. However, I believe in torturing myself, so I usually go despite my better judgment. After my ralk this particular Monday, I peeled all my clothes off, which is an effort in itself, because they stick to me like an ex-girlfriend. Then I went into the laundry room to go through the garage, to hang up my stinky clothes.

Instead of easily navigating through the laundry room like I normally do, I slipped after a few steps, and almost did the splits which would have broke my coccyx, knees and possibly my spine. I turned on the lights and realized that I had knocked over the fabric softener and it was ALL over the floor.

There I was, standing naked, holding sweaty cloths and trying not to slip to my death from the sparkly blue fabric softener with a Teddy Bear logo laughing at me. I didn’t know what I should do first, so after thinking about it for a few seconds, I decided to slowly slide into the garage without trying to slip.

Then, I decided to slip back through the laundry room and take my shower. Next, I took my dirty towel, and every other dirty towel in our house and wiped down the gooey liquid. I would have attempted to use paper towels, but the use of paper towels have been strictly forbidden, by order of the queen, except by guests. That is a blog post for another day.

After 10 minutes of attempting to clean the whole mess, I had to go to work. I got most of it, but I knew there would be some more slidiness that I couldn’t get to before I left, so I kindly left a note for my wife to do the rest. I know, so nice of me. I was also warning her not to slide on it and die, so the not equalized everything right?

I wanted to look past the epic disaster, but the long terms effects were much worse than I could ever imagine. As of the typing of this blog post that is going to press soon, my socks still smell like the scent of a blue ocean. They are so soft, that a puppy might snuggle up to them and fall asleep.

And as of press time, the 8 towels I used to clean up the mess are still so soft that they feel like Lebron when he needs to get a foul called on him.

Because of that tragic Monday incident, my week been bitterly affected by the softness of every piece of laundry that was touched by that fabric softener. It also affects my wife and my son, who will have to deal with the softness and sweet smelling laundry for years. The only hope of my clothes ever returning to their original bitter hardness, will ironically be from running, sweating, and exercising until the bitter hardness and smelliness returns. It will be a long process, but I know that with hard work they will return to their greatness. They didn’t call Bruce Willis’s movie Die Soft.

Thankfully it is Friday now and we can soak our bitterness in some Bitter Friday Giftures to return them to their former glory…

Most of my opinions are unpopular…

I like Mondays…

To me Mondays are great…

Tuesdays suck…

I took last Thursday and Friday off for my mom’s funeral…

This Monday…

After doing the real exercise…

When I came back from my ralk…

And proceeded to slip…

After taking my shower…

And now all the towels…

And the scent of my clothes are as strong…

And as soft as Lebron…

ARRRGGGHHHHH

Bitter Soft as the Other Side of the Pillow Ben