I'm prepared to give you another chance to prove yourself, Tuesday, because today was not your finest hour. I awoke to a puffy face, socks that won't stay up, forgotten breakfast, sub-30 outside temperatures, mascara stab wound, dead phone battery, forgotten camera cord, stumble on icy stairs, 80-plus office temperatures, forgotten meeting, splattered lunch on desk/cubicle wall/person, pathologically disregarded deadlines, and depressed mastery of the English language.
At this rate I fear I won't survive the day; that my fears are true and I really will be found days from now on the Woodside, circled by a hungry mutt, grateful I'm not alive to hear the coroner say, "Well this is new. I didn't know one could asphyxiate from dangerously small hosiery."
So shape up, Tuesday, or I'll be forced to send my henchman after you. You do not want to be snored to death, I can promise you that. REMEMBER THIS FACE.