Mondays that fall on Tuesdays blow

Mondays that fall on Tuesdays blow. It is one of those days where I feel like I am wearing someone else's contacts. Like I want to drink a lake of coffee, but each sip of what I have in my blue mug burns on the way down, sits there in my big, barren stomach and shoots mean heartburn arrows up into my throat and the backs of my ears. My chair feels like there are hundreds of small nubby protrusions that are constantly attempting to bury themselves into the backs of my thighs, and my feet seem incapable of finding an acceptable spot to rest. They are dancing uncomfortably like fathers-in-law at gunshot weddings. There is a yawn in my toes. A yawn so big I can feel it all the way up through my legs, into my spine, and in the uppermost crevices of my cranium. It is so big that it can only come out in spurts, rushing uncontrollably out my mouth and ears, forcing my eyes shut so tightly that it squeezes any and all moisture out, running down my cheeks in rivulets tinged with black on the edges from my mascara. I want to return home to my bed. It smells like incense. I want to pull the covers up over my eyes and go back to sleep…and sleep for at least a month.