The air was dense with fog and mist this morning. That should have told me something, if there's such a thing as a sign or a warning or an omen. Stay in bed! That's what it should have told me.

That's exactly what I would have done, if it hadn't been Monday, and if the phone hadn't started ringing before my eyes were all the way open. I still can't believe how many times I had to stop what I was doing to answer the phone, all day long. The Boss called me for the same reason five times in a row. Tim called me for no reason another five times. There were wrong numbers for both of them.

When I answered and heard nothing but a fax tone, that's when I snapped. I tossed the phone across the room without hanging up. Instead of going back to work, I picked up my book and sat down and read. It was the most peaceful half hour of the day. It was the only peaceful half hour. It probably saved my sanity. I'll live to explode (and throw things) another day.

In the end, it was more me than the phone. I wasn't ready for a gray, heavy Monday. I was probably ready for a Tuesday or Wednesday, but it wasn't meant to be. Monday always seems to arrive when I'm least prepared to deal with it.

The details don't matter, because it could have been anything. Today it was insurance. Next Monday it might be bids or taxes or billings or cost reports or ants or frogs or killer bees. It won't matter, because I'll have to drop something important to handle it. That's my job, and sometimes my curse.