Day 782: Terrible Tuesday Rears Its Ugly Head….Again.

It’s like clockwork.  It really is.  I can almost set a clock by it.  Every week, it visits me.  All day.  At every turn, it attempts to break me.  Wear me down and then run me over like a bus.  Terrible.  Tuesday.

Tuesdays, for whatever reason, is the hands down, worst day of the week.  Why you ask?  Let me just tell you.  Pop a squat and have a seat.  Get ready to be entertained at my expense.  You see, for some time now, the natives have taken, adopted, held hostage, whatever you want to call it, me into their tribe, some seven hundred eighty-two days ago.  And for seven hundred eighty-two days, I have been their care giver, referee, warden, hostage, prisoner, inmate, cook, waiter and playmate.  Yup.  I’ve done a lot in seven hundred eighty two days.  Some days have been much better than others.  True story.

However, as any native observant will tell you, some days are inherently better than others.  In fact, some days are downright shitty.  Yup.  Shitty.  And, around these parts, the third day of the week, known as Tuesday, for whatever freakin’ reason, is always terrible.  Henceforth, it shall be dubbed Terrible Tuesday.

I don’t know why the natives have chosen Tuesday as the day, each week, that they trade their earthly bodies for those of demons, but every freakin’ Tuesday is the same.  Damn. Thing.  For instance, normally, the natives listen marginally to my requests to do simple tasks, such as turning off a light that they have been asked to repeatedly turn off or to refrain from striking each other in a fit of rage.  However on Terrible Tuesday, the gloves come off.  The natives exhibit partial hearing loss ( I say partial because they can’t hear my requesting them to pick something up off the tribal living area floor, but they can hear a bag of fucking potato chips being opened from the other end of the tribal abode.  And the destruction – oh, the destruction.  The natives can destroy a room faster than a herd of freakin’ buffalo.  And last but not least, the attitude.  The last time I checked, the natives, Tuesday and Wednesday, were three and two years of age, respectively.  Yet, with the amount of attitude and talking back they give me, one would expect that they were teenage natives.  Yup.  Terrible Tuesday.  It’s a real barrel of laughs around this joint.

Today’s episode of Terrible Tuesday began at around 6:45 AM.  I know what you’re saying, in the general scheme of things, it’s not early.  Some people, my mother included, have baked two batches of muffins, done three loads of laundry and have walked five miles before that hour, but humor me for a minute.  I was sleeping soundly – and to be woken up at that hour, having been sleeping soundly, it’s frigging early. Too early, in fact, for me.  However, I digress.  This morning began at 6:45 AM.  The natives were up and at our resting chamber door, wide-eyed and busy tailed.

Their demands had already begun standing in the doorway requesting more of their preferred beverage and sustenance.  They also requested the tribal leader’s presence, which I quickly discouraged and shooed them out of our resting chambers so that at least one of us could get the remaining minutes of slumber.  I quickly reminded them of the hour, which they swiftly disregarded.  Nice.  My first thought was to get them setup with a program on the electronic media box with instructions to watch it QUIETLY whilst the tribal leader and myself got our remaining moments of sleep.  Fat chance, stupid.

My bright idea (which really wasn’t bright at all, it was the first and only idea I had in my groggy, half-wakened state) lasted about ten minutes.  Long enough for me to close my eyes and drift halfway back to sleep.  Again, Tuesday appeared in our doorway and again, I shooed her out, attended to her needs and I returned to my resting quarters.  Again she appeared, this time with Wednesday and that was the end of that.

As the tribal leader was leaving for her usual avocation, the natives really demonstrated just how the day was going to progress.  For, as she was leaving, and not being happy with her departure, they wailed uncontrollably as she closed the door to the abode.  Wonderful.  Fanfuckingtabulous.  And so, Terrible Tuesday was off to a terrible start.

From there, there were numerous interruptions for beverages, food, wildlife vomiting in different areas of the tribal abode floor, this, that and the other thing.  There was disagreements over the next program that was to be watched on the electronic media box as well as toys and playthings that could be played with and by whom.  Wednesday, who had fallen asleep early last evening had wet through her disposable undergarment and onto the tribal furniture.  Tuesday had already had two out of her three cup allotment of her beverage of choice.  Allotment you say?  Yes, allotment.  Too much of the mixed beverage turns Tuesday into a raging beast.  Well, more of a raging beast than usual.  So yes, allotment.  Yup. And this was all before 10 AM.

Consequently, my attitude on Tuesdays is pretty terrible too.  Those three heads and horns that sprout when I’m angry?  Just below the fucking surface.  Yup.  I go from 0 to apeshit in 2.5 seconds on Tuesdays.

After a while, all three of us settled into our Terrible Tuesday routine: I had determined how turns were going to be taken with choosing a program on the electronic media box, as well as what sustenance could be consumed for the breakfast meal ( today’s request was veggie sticks and hot dogs for breakfast.)  I eventually got some coffee out of the ridiculously slow coffee maker that the tribe owns.  The rate at which the magical elixir dispenses from the machine is equal to the rate at which a line of people moves at the DMV.  But, I digress.

Morning came and went, eventually and the midday sustenance was prepared for the miniature vultures that descended upon me during its preparation.  The natives have a funny way of circling  the communal eating surface when they know that sustenance is being prepared.  They also have the uncanny ability to know exactly when I cannot leave the electric sustenance cooking surface and when to  desperately request my assistance.   Finally, the meal was prepared, consumed and cleaned up after and it was time for the afternoon’s festivities.

Now, I wish to state that no one in the next events I shall describe was injured, to any great degree.  The natives were in the tribal living area marginally “playing” together.  I say marginally because there was a bit of squabbling and arguing going on.  For the record, I do not hover over the natives whilst they play.  I give them the space to allow themselves to figure out how to play together and intervene only when the “play” turns into mortal combat.  So, they are “playing” when a red, furry rodent arrives on the wild avian feeder that is hung outside the window in the tribal living area.

Backup.  We have a lovely little red rodent, Sciurus vulgaris, commonly known as a red squirrel, that has taken a liking to our wild avian feeder  and has done a wonderful job of scattering the sustenance for said avian all around the outside deck.  We have allowed the natives, since their main goal in life is discord and destruction, to scare said rodent off the feeder whenever it is seen on it.  This has worked rather well, actually, and has given the squirrel cardiac arrest on many occasions.  However, today, there was a slight incident.

Tuesday, for whatever reason, was on the arm of the chair by the window, methinks.  At least, that’s the only way I can imagine her falling between the chair and the window and getting stuck.  Like really stuck.  Like you-have-to-move-the-big-chair stuck.  Fucking wonderful.

As one can imagine, Tuesday was not pleased being stuck between the tribal furniture and the window.  In fact, distraught was the word I’d used to describe her demeanor once extricated from the small space.  After ensuring that she was ok, I admonished her sternly NOT to get up there again.  After a few more moments of sobbing, she regained her composure and was back in business.  As for the squirrel, he has returned to business as usual as well.

So that’s been Terrible Tuesday thus far.  This doesn’t include the countless times I’ve had to referee and reprimand the natives from being tough and rough with the wildlife, fighting and hitting, tearing apart the tribal living area and so on.   And, it’s only 3 PM.


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