I’m over Tuesday already.

I hate to damn an entire day, but if I had to damn any day – every single time – it’d be Tuesday.

Mondays I’m usually ready to take on my week. I’m put together and focused. Tuesday arrives and everything just falls out of my hands, spilling on to the floor. Then I will slip in it, fall, and get myself covered in it’s bullshit. Pretty much every Tuesday that’s me – on the floor, rollin’ around in its messiness until it’s time to go to bed. Bed time can’t come too soon.


My Tuesday hero.

Life just feels like it’s beating me down. Between feeling like I am not as useful as I could be or would like to be to my parents, my fiancee (who’s injured insists she doesn’t need my help), our non-argument argument about my dog…I’m feeling sour. Like I want to cry. Like I want to flail about, yell, cry, sleep.

I just don’t feel needed or even particularly wanted, which is an ugly way to feel.

But in reality, it’s just another Tuesday. What’s worse is that Tuesdays usually feel like they are two days long. This day of the week is an exercise in patience, faith, and endurance.

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