Monday is the devil.

You don't need to tell me it's Monday; I can feel it in every ounce of my being.

It totally doesn't help that the refrain "I don't like Mondays" is stuck in my head...

And you know that when you wake up with that "Oh- crap- it's Monday- and- I- actually- have- to- get- up- and- be productive" feeling that it's gonna be a rough ride...

And this morning's workout was  bit of a devil.

No, seriously.

"Escape from devil's basement" was its name.

It focused on killing me.

"I'm not dead yet! I think I'll go for a walk now..." was all I could think.

-That's from the Holy Grail, not my thoughts after R said she wanted to go run after the workout last Thursday. Crazy.

Today was one of those "I must be crazy to do this" kind of days.

Not crazy like 'I think I'll get a Brazilian wax", but more like "I think I'll get another Brazilian wax"- you know what you're in for, yet do it anyway kind of crazy.

I had lunch with my family yesterday. As sometimes happens with families, we started telling stories about childhood. My grandmother and her sister told stories about my mom and aunt. They were mostly about my mom, who could find trouble just by breathing. 

Like when she, as a toddler, shimmied up a laundry pole (the kind with 6 arms coming from the center) and was standing on top of the pole while a neighbor watched in horror as she took a step out onto the line. Somehow the neighbor lady caught her just as she fell. 

Or how the state patrol knocked on the door and asked my grandmother if she had a daughter."Why yes, I do. She's playing in the back yard" she replied. "You might wanna check that fence" he said. Turns out  the police officer found her playing on the expressway. She had crawled between and over the fences (there were two).

I guess what I'm saying is, crazy runs in my family.

Don't get me wrong. It starts out innocently enough.

Like when my cousin (as a toddler) rode on the outside of a three story escalator. It was in the mall, back when they had fountains inside. My aunt discovered cousin #1 was trying to eat a squirrel tail (what can I say? We are classy,klassy, with a "K".), turned around and saw cousin #2 going up the escalator. She ran across the fountain (as in, got soaking wet) and managed to grab her ankle just before she was out of reach. Crowds of people cheered and clapped. Having rescued cousin #2, she turned her attention back to cousin #1. (It was one of those days.)

Cousin #1 interjected here:

"I found a dead squirrel in the back yard. It was back when Papa and Uncle Johnny were sick. Mom and Dad wanted to teach me about death. So Dad and I buried the squirrel, said some words, and I remember Dad telling me not to dig it up...

But the next day I really wanted to know how he was doing.

And we were fixing to go to the mall, and I remember Mom calling me as I was trying to check on the squirrel. I was digging, and found the tail... I pulled on the tail.. And it broke off! I put it in my purse. I knew I had to hide it because I'd get in trouble...

I had one of those push- up pops, you know? I put the lid back on it and stuck it in my purse."

My aunt continued:

 "But it melted. She pulled that sticky mess out of her purse, with a squirrel tail attached to it, and was trying to eat it... And then there goes child #2 up the escalator!"

One of those days.

So my stomach hurts from laughing yesterday, and my thighs are screaming from this morning and all I can think is that I am so screwed today.

And tomorrow, for that matter.

I just hope today doesn't involve squirrel flavored push pops.