Monday, September 21, 2009

Don't call this a case of the Mondays

Happy Monday.

Yes, I used a period instead of an exclamation point on purpose.

Last week wasn't so great, the weekend was filled with happy moments that popped up between disasters like the ant infestation in my kitchen, and today doesn't look so awesome.

Today is not quite as unpleasant as I had feared, but that's not saying too very much. I stayed in bed for a solid 40 minutes after the alarm went off because my intense desire to not work weighed me down like crazy. I didn't want to move. I actually woke up sad.

Now I'm at work, and the work is not awesome, but not disastrous. So I guess that's good.

But I just got off the phone with Cody, who has a sore throat. He was going to return some really ugly and cheap sheets that he picked out on Friday that I immediately rejected (look, I'm not trying to be some kind of thread-count princess, but I could almost see the fabric forming those dreaded pill things as I looked at it), but he was on the phone with me when he walked into K-Mart and meandered since he didn't want to hang up on me before going to the service desk.

So he calls me back to tell me that he went to the returns department or service desk or whatever with his sheets and his receipt dated from Friday and because they saw him coming over from the bedding department.......wait for it.......they accused him of stealing sheets and trying to get $15 out of the deal.

So they wouldn't let him return the sheets.

I asked if he asked to speak to the manager.

He said, "That was the manager."

But they did let him keep the sheets.

He can keep the sheets he supposedly stole.

The sheets we don't want.

Wait, what?

K-Mart, I don't care if you do have the Martha Stewart Collection (even though the one on Rodney Parham--that's right, I'm calling you jerks out!--doesn't seem to), our friendship is over.

I may eventually get over this stupidity (but not the one on Rodney Parham! They don't have Martha Stewart sheets and they're jerks), but you are dead to me for now.

To add another element to the stupidity, I tried to call Cody on my lunch.

But first I called Casey.

And then I didn't even know until I got his voice mail and I didn't pick up on the mistake until he said, "Hi. You have reached the voice mail of Casey....". Geez Louise. I just thought Cody had set up his voice mail.

I couldn't recognize that it wasn't my husband's voice, and that it was his twin's.

Stop laughing!

I know you're laughing at me, and that's why I'm not going to tell you about how I nearly faceplanted in the laundromat parking lot last week.

But I will tell you this: want to know what stopped my face from actually touching the filthy, dirty asphalt that strangers walk and drive all over every day?

A laundry cart. With clean clothes in it.

And also my car.

I'll let you visualize that while you try to comment on this note on facebook and instead receive error messages.

Because facebook is busted, and my ability to comment, post, or just plain lurk on the people I love (or stalk. Whatever) is severely diminished.

And google's homepage is just weird. I get what you're trying to do, but

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