Week Of Mondays

KT has been saying all week that it's been a week of Mondays, over and over.

I pretty much have to agree.

Nothing really disastrous, but stack upon stack of niggling, picky, pointy little irritants.

I worked from home yesterday in an effort to get out from under, and it was a productive day, except that one job showed up that was bigger than I'd expected, and another job that I'd been waiting on didn't show up until the last minute, so I had to do a half-assed job at it to get it out in time, and I never did get to the one low-priority but potentially useful task that I'd been hoping working from home would let me get to. Like that.

And I'd wanted to write last night, but I couldn't settle into it. You'd think it would be easy to decide whether my mood leaned more toward writing dark horror or romantic fluff, but it really wasn't. I think -- on reflection -- that it was that I wasn't quite irritable enough to really enjoy the horror, but I was too tightly wound to relax into the fluff.

And then Matt's glasses broke, and since he's all but blind without them, that killed what little bit of concentration I'd managed to scrape together. I ended up doing some more clean-up and organization, moving files off my thumb drive and into my online repositories. It didn't feel as productive as actually writing would have, but it was better than nothing.

This weekend seriously needs to hit the Reset button on the week, though. I'm tired of Mondays.