Monday, Monday

Have you ever had one of those day when everyone did what they could to annoy you?

By about 9 am I was hating people for no reason. They were in the office just so they could annoy me. All this extracurricular irritants made my regularly scheduled work go very slowly. I couldn’t get through anything without being stopped at least once by someone trying to annoy me. And if it wasn’t my co-workers ganging up on me it was the callers. I hate the public.

It started out so well too. My alarm work me up! This never happens. Usually I’m up every couple of hours wether I want to or not. Kitty does his part but sometimes I wake up just to see what time it is or to assure myself I set my alarm or that I have not yet slept through my alarm. The one day I sleep through the night I wake up on the wrong side of the bed.

I was fine when I got to work, where the A/C was set to stun - With enough time to play with the computer. Everything was good. Until. Until I wanted to check in at TwoP - I really hate those people but I want to assure myself that I am not the only one watching Raines, you should try it, it’s kind of like if Monk only taller, without the OCD but with delusions and more bodies, it’s like if Medium was actually suffering from hallucinations. I’m going to lose interest though if our hero doesn’t get laid or throw a tantrum or something because otherwise the shows plots are really Matlock level who-done-it’s - and this from someone who enjoys the My First Mystery storylines of Monk .

And then I started my work day. I should have gone home when the messages on the answering machine made me want to hurt someone. It’s not the callers faults, their just all uniformly mentally ill and I should be used to this by now - and currently none of the callers are calling from psych wards seven or eight times in a row - to tell me that they shouldn’t be locked up because they really don’t belong here - trust me, if you are calling from a locked ward - You belong there. I really did go about a week with listening to messages from a “client” who said he changed his name to Bill Shakespeare and he called the machine at all hours to talk about what a complete and total nut job he was. Actually, he didn’t talk about being a nut job, he talked about so many things he inadvertently told me he was a nut job - in so many words, like 172,000 words - every night. Crazy people love to tell other people how really, really sane they really are and how they are the only person on their ward that isn’t completely out of their minds and that all of this is a mistake and they can not understand why the cops brought them in.

Do you know how crazy you have to be before the cops will bring you in? You have to be displaying enough insanity that they cops can feel comfortable taking a break from arresting drug dealers just to get you off the streets. The cops have to feel that you need to be taken off the streets more than a drug dealer. Then they have to fill out paperwork to lock your crazy ass up for 48-72 hours - during which time, you call my answering machine between 48 and 72 times.