Monday with a hangover
sounds the alarm, and in the middle of my haze, I get to remember who I am, where I am and because I have that pasty taste in your mouth. Before opening her eyes to mentally count five thousand six hundred and three (what? What to count to ten and is well seen ...) and I promise for the umpteenth time this year is that I will not mix with absinthe or cacique to try to empty bottles at the pub always just me and my friends.
Suddenly, something wet and rough lashing my face and the way the retreat half a kilo of gummy, so I can get, with a titanic effort, opened one eye. My cat melooks reproachful eyes, and I'm not sure why. "I forgot again to feed him? Saco
a foot rugs and floor support. Cold, pain, cramps! "Call work and say you're sick, call work and say you're sick ...". Unlike in the cartoons I lack the angel to help me follow the right path, and my evil side is as big as Hulk. Still ...
Yawning as the Golden Lion Mayer I head to the bathroom, knocking on with shelves, corners of furniture and carpets spread evil. Tap water is as cold as a penguin's ass, and only after fifteen times commend my patron god (if I have any) achieved by removing the remains of a night's sleep profundo (although the marks of the sheets remain marked on my face a couple of minutes).
already in the kitchen, her hair dripping and shivering impromptu shower cold, fill the machine with it the tenth attempt after spilling half the pot on the floor (why so little hard me coffee?, Think about it days later, when you make a shopping list) and biting disgust tempered a couple of cookies at some point been part of a package shredded undoubtedly gave a good account in my last panic attack. When you leave the coffee (the coffee not closed, as always, has lost half way through much of its original liquid, scalding the tail of my grumpy cat) and after burn your tongue three times remember that: a) I gusta black coffee without sugar and b) my tongue too well not tolerate temperatures above 50 ยบ C. While
shot half the clothes on the floor ("this is dirty crumpled ... this ... this I do not go rummaging ...") and lint from under my bed (there are some that look like hamsters I have them so shiny) shoes the last day of work pulled kicking my feet, which still yawning hippopotamus. Ultimately going to be right when he said my last pair in the morning I had the same appeal as the Fary ... Rebusco
bag as I have the keys for almost an hour until I remember that I left on the kitchen counter, and I go out running over my cat, who suddenly decided that the best area andchars a nap is in the hall, after a dangerous curve and skidded take the time comes down on me. If you have at least carry a reflective vest or have put warning triangles.
The sun shines brightly, uncombed matted hair while cooking my heels to pace the seventh cavalry by the crowded streets of my city. Cleaners cart pass by my side and, like every morning, he greets me giving him a vigorous cleaning feet with the damn cold water. Stream a couple of children who are left lying behind their backs like turtles to the crusher weight of their backpacks, and elusive to an elderly couple who have taken seriously the famous phrase "the street is mine"close to the body mass (bad idea to bring red bra and white shirt) and pants soaked to the knee. By a curious
"plop, plop" go around the hall as fast as I can and go into the first bath I have at hand, literally ducking under the hand dryer with it trying to improve my appearance a bit. The divine accounting, some gorgeous girls, gorgeous, glamorous and always super prepared and arranged as Isabel Preysler when he announces the Pie these, go to my picture and look at me with disgust.
After several attempts I work up the courage and I am behind my desk, trying to go unnoticed. But that day is that everyone has something to ask me, and all meetings of the month is celebrated today. So quand when I enter the room together, my boss, the president and all other heavenly court sided look at me with amazement, asking the kind of favors that I did to my boss to hire me.
top, leaving a meeting, I hook the lapel of his shirt with the doorknob, uprooted a couple of buttons, so I have more and more like a "woman devorahombres." And the fucking amaze red bra as having light.
At lunch I discovered that I have left his wallet at home and all my colleagues I could swing the lead some are gone, so I am happy with half a bag of stale pipes and cattle that had left one of my desk drawers. And to drink tap water.
The rest of the afternoon ... normal: a pair of skids and falls through the halls to go running with wet shoes, some problem with a pen that decides the best place to download it over my shirt and battered a couple of trips with my superior, I still some reports claiming that there had to be delivered months ago (plus a couple of calls from my mother to tell you that the weekend had family dinner and my father's hemorrhoids are getting worse). And after an afternoon of sucking heat because of the sun's rays falling on my window, leaving the wind and water re-charging, as if even some of my modest person who could do worse.
I pass the old women before (which are now grouped
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