I HATE SUNDAYS!!!!

Well, this weekend I went back to work after having a week off with the hubby. We did not trot off to some far off location to spend time lazing on beach and engaging in crazy water sports in crystal clear waters. No: that would cost money! Instead we attacked the sixteen square meters of overgrown swamp land that was once a rather pretty flower bed running across the front of the house.

Still, despite the fact that digging in the yard when the daily temperature outside is around 100 degrees is by no means an easy task, I really enjoyed it. Spending time in the outdoors with my husband with no distractions from the T.V., the computers, or any other games consoles gave us a real sense of 'togetherness' and having space and time to talk about life: our hopes and fears, plans for the future etc etc was actually very therapeutic.

However, the time off was not enough. We are still not done out front and when Saturday came round, back to work I went.

Having been outcast from the Social Work field, I currently work as a Support Manager for large company providing pet supplies, animal adoptions, dog grooming and pet training. Not a bad job, but the company pays peanuts, therefore most of the staff I supervise behave like.....well...... Monkeys. The place has issues.......and not just a few.

So Saturday I am greeted by one such member of staff telling me that he may be late for his shift the following day. "Why?" I ask.

"cos I'm off out with the boys tonight, which I haven't done for ages. Yeah, we are gonna get drunk, take our guns and shoot some targets on my buddy's land" (for the British folks reading this: getting drunk, then using guns to blow random objects to smithereens is quite a common past time for the younger generation who are living out in the sticks!)

"REALLY!" I reply, before launching into a severe telling off about time keeping and efficiency and the difference between a reasonable "late for work" excuse and a cruddy one. I am not a girl to be argued with and the problem (I hope) has been resolved.

So, Saturday night I am setting my alarm for work. I hate working Sundays. Mostly because all of my other shifts are in the afternoon/night time, but Sundays I am opening Manager and have to be up at 5am, to get to work for 7. I am the only manager on duty until 9am, so being late is not an option as no-one else can get into the building until I unlock the doors.

I double check the alarm. It is set for 05:10.......all is good!

I didn't sleep well. It took forever to fall asleep in the first place, then I kept waking up. Eventually, however, I must have gone into a real deep slumber because the next thing I recall is my husband asking me "don't you need to be somewhere??? It's ten to seven!"

CRAP!...........CRAP!.........CRAP!!!!!

I dart from my bed like a woman possessed, barking orders at my husband as I do so.

"Make me a coffee!"

"Put it in a take out cup!"

"Fill up the cool bag with drinks for work!"

"throw some cereal bars in there too!"

My poor husband!!! Still, I was ready for work and out the door in ten minutes flat.........or at least I would have been if I had remembered that in order to drive a car, you kinda need keys! (Where did I put those???) Another five minutes pass.

So, in true Mississippi style (I will enlighten you about driving in Mississippi at another point) with keys now in my possession, I drive to work at speeds well in excess of 90mph. As I screech to a halt in the car park outside work I check the time. I am 35 minutes late. I grab my hand bag and 'coffee to go' (I love my husband!) and clamber from the car.

I glance into the vehicle parked in front of me, hoping that my staff haven't given up and headed home.

No: They are there all right! Said 'Monkey' rolls down his window and looks me up and down.

He doesn't say a word (thankfully) but I know from the look on his face exactly what he is thinking. Today is gonna be a long day!

I hate Sundays