I always complain about Mondays. I don’t think I’m the only one. No matter what attitude with which I attempt to wake up on Monday mornings, it still very difficult to drag my bones out of bed and get started. I’m not the only one either: The puppies grumbled at me when I finally got up because I was disturbing them. Their grumbling is quite cute though- it sounds like a sleepy moan which, I suppose, is really what it is.
I tried to go into today thinking, “Yay! It’s Monday! Let’s get this party started.” Then I realized the party involved work which, when I look at it, isn’t really a party at all. Though lately, I have been able to have some mini dance parties at my desk which is nice because ever since we moved to Cubicle Central, it’s been hard to do a chair boogie without getting caught. Not that it would be SO bad if I got caught- I’d probably just get some strange, bemused looks. People have long since written me off as “a little peculiar,” I think.
So, I didn’t really get the party started this morning. I sort of shuffled my way to work and sat down with a plop. That’s not really a party. I did have a banana but, again, not exactly a symbol for a wild hoedown at my desk. I suppose it depends what I was doing with the banana but that would be rather silly and disturbing when, in actual fact, all I did was eat the banana. I do like to make monkey faces sometimes while eating a banana which sound rather strange when I type it here. But, rest assured, I do them inwardly so the only thing that can see my monkey faces are the me inside my head, my cubicle wall and anyone peering over the top of my cubicle which never happens so I think I’m safe.
My morning was not party-like in the slightest. I hoped for a party at lunch or, at least, some funness. Instead, as I pulled into my driveway, I noticed that my next door neighbour, on the non Dog-Whisperer side- had hung his shorts over the porch rail to dry. Now, this would not be significant except he’s not a very small man and, well, his trousers are ENORMOUS.
Seriously, they were the type of trousers that you stop and wonder how many people are supposed to fit in them, they’re that large.
This lead me to an internal discussion as to how it was slightly inappropriate to now refer to this neighbour as Mr. Enormous Trousers. And yet, now, in my head, he will always be Mr. Enormous Trousers.
In my defense, he hung his trousers over his porch rail to dry. Either that, or his wife did. While I understand the need to air dry one’s trousers sometimes, usually that’s done in the back yard. And Mr. Enormous Trousers has a perfectly respectable porch rail in the back of his house too. I know this because even though they have a nice privacy fence, I’ve peered through the hole in it to see what their garden looked like.
Yes, this sounds a little creepy now I type that. I mean, can you picture it- an elderly, grey, wooden privacy fence that’s intended to keep nosy prying eyes out and through one of the many holes, you see the eye of a peeping Monkeypants?
I’m not helping my case at the moment, I realize this. I’m not trying to be creepy. No, I’m just, simply, nosy. I’ve only peeked twice and I made sure there’s no one to see me being a peeping Monkeypants. I just wanted to see if their garden was nice. It was ok- they need to mow their grass more often. They also have a rather nice deck with a porch rail. The second time was to see if they had the evil rabbit in their garden since the puppies were going a little nuts trying to dig under their fence.
So, you see, I’m not meaning to be a spy. I’m just horribly nosy.
I did not, however, peek today to see if Mr. Enormous Trousers had used up the back porch rail to also dry his enormous trousers. Perhaps that’s why he put the leftovers on the front porch rail. Me, personally, would probably have rigged up a washing line in the back garden since I’m not big in airing my laundry in public.
Yes, that was meant to be a pun. It was a bad one. I apologize.
Still, it did occur to me to wonder how one can be quite so open as to not mind the neighbours seeing my enormous trousers as they pass by. Perhaps it’s a good state of mind to have. The interesting thing is that Mr. Enormous Trousers doesn’t look quite as big as his trousers. He’s a large man but not…uh…enormous. His trousers make him look bigger than he is.
You know it’s a Monday when enormous trousers become one of the most exciting things you can discuss. I could discuss the fact that it was a pretty day out, not too muggy and I decided I didn’t want to go back to work after lunch.
Of course, it would be far more interesting a story if I hadn’t gone back to work after lunch but I did so it really wasn’t interesting at all. This afternoon, I did do some work which is often cause for a party, if you ask me. I also got to hear all about my coworker’s trip to Comic-Con. Though she said it was fun, she really didn’t seem to enjoy it that much. There were too many people and not enough organization. I feel bad for her since she’d been looking forward to it for months but she didn’t seem to have a completely miserable time- just not as fulfilling as she’d wished.
That killed a good while since my coworker is a chatter. For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve been bouncing between tasks, getting little things done here and there. I also had a rather nice True Blood discussion with the company president but that was pretty much it.
This evening, the puppies and I are enjoying the lack of humidity. The enormous trousers were still there when I got home from work. The evening wasn't really a party but we did have a warm steak salad for dinner so that could be considered a party of sorts though, sadly, by societal standards...probably not.
We’ll take what we can, enormous trousers and all.