I Hate Mondays

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First, I'd like to admit that bitching about this is a bit inane, but I need to get it off my chest. When I woke up this morning, the day had so much promise; I woke up on time, and I was actually rested for once. That's where the promise ended. As I walked out to get my coffee, I find that the coffee maker isn't turned on. Alright, a slight bump, so I try to turn it on. No effect. Unplug it, and put it back in, no dice. Then the addict in me kicked in: I brew some of my Earl Grey tea, hoping to get some of that sweet, sweet, chemical, but even that didn't help. Alright, I'll get a coffee before I go to work. That doesn't work out for me: the bus is 20 minutes late getting downtown. So I finally get to go on my lunch break 5 agonizing hours later. Oh, I hate being an addict. The only win of the day; coming home and smashing that shitty coffee maker and exacting my revenge. Also, the promise of being able to buy a new coffee maker at week end.

---Coffee, Black

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