Today is one of those days, trust me. It's a Monday, and I feel about this Monday the way Garfield feels about all Mondays; I hate it. I'm just extra tired today from being up late last night. But in my defense, I was at the glorious Triple Crown Ale House & Basement playing the devil in Hell, and by that I mean I was in the Triple Crown basement. So I have a boring reason for being tired. I don't hate all Mondays (#notallMondays). That would be daycist of me (#All MondaysMatter). They'll be marches for both of these causes that you can attend later in June. OK? I've already made a sign.

But that's kind of what I want to say tonight. Being tired affects how we communicate with each other. Now, on a good day, my responses back to people are jumbled, incoherent, and don't make much sense. But today, especially, my response this morning to "Hey, how's it going?" was downright wrong. I replied "Have a good one." We've all been there, am I right?

What had happened was I walked into the bathroom to take my morning dump at work like a young professional, and I bumped into a coworker who said the above mentioned greeting and I said my above mentioned response and this all sounded better in my head. Point is, you don't know what I meant. I could've been asking a question about his peeing, like "Have a good one?" See, I care about office morale. I want to make sure everyone has good pees. You don't know. That could be what I meant. You don't know.

Anyway, it's been bugging me all day, although he didn't seem to notice, and maybe I mumbled it. Aww, who am I kidding? I definitely mumbled it. Could this be a win for my mumbling, finally breaking it's 0-700 losing record? Maybe...? Am I going to end this blog with a bunch of rhetorical questions? Probably, what's it to you? Leave me alone. I'm exhausted.