Why I hate Mondays

From the time frame, you might be thinking that I'm at work. But you would be wrong. I was going to work today. I got up, showered, brushed my teeth and headed out the door to catch the bus (after putting clothes on, of course).

That was my first mistake.

Somehow, I'm not sure how, I missed my bus. So I waited. And waited some more. About twenty minutes. And then the next bus came. And I got on it.

That was my second mistake.

After about fifteen minutes, while wondering why the bus was going a different way than I remembered, the bus driver said "This is the last stop."

"What?"

"This is the last stop," he repeated.

"You don't go to Concord?" Obviously not, Dana, else you would be at work and not riding around West Saint Paul.

"No, that's the 71D."

Brilliant. I am brilliant. Didn't even bother to check to make sure I got on the right bus. I always check. Even when I am absolutely positive it's the right bus, I'll usually ask because I am paranoid that something like this will happen.

The bus driver was headed back downtown so he dropped me off at Lafayette and 7th and I walked a block to the closest bus stop. There I caught a 54 something or another and got dropped off on 6th and Robert. I live on Robert and Kellogg, a good three blocks away. If you have never been to downtown Saint Paul, our blocks, while not as long as the blocks in Las Vegas, are very long.

I got home, checked to see when the next bus would come and then ran to the bathroom and threw up.

So yeah, I'm going back to bed. Here's hoping that Monday doesn't decide to get me in any other horrible ways.