I like that alliteration, don’t you? Misery of mondays. Damn, I’m good. But, I digress.

We’re having a really weird month here in Ottawa. We’re fixing to have the first march in recorded history with no snow. Today when I got up, it was actually raining, like get out the umbrella and forget about a smooth hairdo kind of rain. And it was dark when I got up and I was a little blah.

So, I was already late when I got to the front door. Well, later than normal. Since I’m the boss, I can actually get to work when I want to, I guess. I get to the door and I put all my bits in my bag and look around and realize I don’t see my bus pass anywhere. So I check each of the three jackets hanging on my bannister (did you hear that? that was my mother shouting “Shame!” at the screen), and there was no bus pass to be found. I took everything out of my bag and turned it upside down, but there was no bus pass to be found. I went up to the kitchen because I remembered taking it off in the kitchen one day last week, but there was no bus pass to be found. I went up to my bedroom because I definitely took it off up there one day last week, but there was no bus pass to be found. I’m sure it’s fallen out of my jacket pocket on Friday when I pulled out my ipod (same pocket) to change a song. The headphones tend to get stuck in the lanyard that my current employer forces you to use for your building pass (which is attached to my bus pass).

I went back downstairs to the first floor to check the jackets again. I should point out that I’m actually wearing a jacket at the time, which I would like to point out was not hosting my bus pass. I give up and then, because I’m stubborn, decide to get the coins together to pay to take the bus (most other people at this point I’m sure would have driven to work). This requires me to go back up to the kitchen to root around for coins. Now I’m officially sweaty and cranky as cranky can be.

I miss the bus by about the width of the street I have to cross because the driver decides not to wait for me. I get off the bus downtown and detour over to the corner store to get some tickets (it can take a while to get a replacement bus pass, because of the type of pass I have). I need 14 tickets for the rest of the week, but this store will only sell me them in batches of 6 tickets. So I buy 12 tickets, but don’t have the cash (I never do), and they charge me 40 cents to use the debit card. But the debit card doesn’t work the first three times they try it, and now there’s a really long line of cranky, sweaty people behind me.

I finally get to the office and the security guy refuses to acknowledge the fact that I’ve said hello to him at least four times a day for seven weeks and pretends like he’s never seen me before. He tries to give me a visitor badge instead of a temporary pass. He can’t write my name, despite my spelling it four times. Finally, he gives me the pen and lets me write it and when I write down that I’m visiting myself, he finally looks me up. Lo and behold, there’s an entry for Kerry the Boss in his book. He switches the type of pass and lets me in without comment.

I get up to my office and half of my Ottawa team is sick. No joke. I had four voicemails and three emails from sick people. It’s so quiet I can hear my own heart beating. My computer system has been changed over the weekend and all of my settings are gone, including my email signature and my bookmarks. After about 90 minutes of misery I give up and call my mother to moan and complain. She’s got her own misery (tooth problems), so turfs me to my dad.

My dad is a smart man. We’re going outlet shopping on Friday and he commented on how nice the forecast is, especially compared to last week (my what a change a week can bring). What what what, I think? What happened last week? Oh right. Friday. It was -20C when I left the house. Which means I was wearing a down jacket. A down jacket? A jacket that I HUNG UP. In the closet. Because I wasn’t going to wear it again this winter, right?

Yes kids, my bus and building passes were in that jacket, in the pocket, hung up in the closet. And that mum, is the reason why i don’t like to put things away. You wondered why, and this is clearly the reason. I could have saved myself so very much misery.

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