Monday

Monday mornings are a fresh start. They bring a new week, fresh goals, and a chance to try again. Win this time.

There is hope on Monday morning, despite how we feel about it, more so than, perhaps, other mornings. It is a clean slate, a good time to fix old mistakes, and plan new wins.

But, waking up early is hard after the weekend that has gone by too fast. Funny, how we can wake up early other mornings, without so much trouble 

Coffee is a must. I recommend it. Anyone who doesn’t drink coffee really can’t be trusted, let’s face it.

After I drink my coffee, I chuckle. I know my overbearing ex-girlfriend CEO would probably say something like, write down your top goal for the week. Oh, kill me now.

Take it one slow step at a time, that’s what I say. Get through Monday morning, that way. 

It was raining as I left for work. As I walked down my street the sky cleared momentarily and the hot sun came out. Euw, I thought. I’m burning. It didn’t last long though.

It was setting up new figures all day. I worked away, nose down, bum up, like every good gay boy. I just focused and did what I had to do, I pretty much blocked the girls out. I don’t won’t to cycle with them, I’m not sure it is doing anything for them

I wasn’t listening to them today. Whatever, girls.

It was sunny when I left for home at 4.30pm. Love a 4.30pm finish.

Sam got home at normal time. I was shocked when he read from Facebook that Wesley had had a heart attack in the morning.

We took Buddy for a walk around 7pm. He headed off towards Gertrude Street, unusually for him, so we let him. Just around the corner in Gertrude Street there were two guys drinking beer with, what looked like their nearly grown puppy staffy. I asked if the Staffy was good with other dogs and they said he was, at which point Buddy growled at the staffy, as the boisterous puppy tried to play with Buddy. He growled again when the Staffy tried to play with Buddy for a second time.

I was a little surprised.

Buddy proceeded to crap three times as we walked along Gertrude Street, one turd per squat, using up all of the pooh bags I had bought with me, which was unusual for him. With the lack of pooh bags, we were forced to head down Napier Street, which I don’t really like doing any more because of that idiot with the pitbull. I suspected Buddy wouldn’t crap again, but if he did, I didn’t want to be caught on a main road in full view when I couldn’t pick it up. 100 metres down Napier Street he took another dump, right in front of somebody’s gate, of course. We walked off quickly and then not far away we came upon a press seal bag lying on the footpath so I picked it up and went back and collected the 4th turd. I found a bin a bit further down the street to put it in.

We tried to buy some more pooh bags from the Johnson Street vet, but at 7.15pm they were closed. Hardly surprising. Buddy will just have to cross his legs until tomorrow, but considering how much crap has just come out of him.

We ate stir fried veggies for dinner.