Bad day. It started out bad. I could not wake up this morning, despite an infusion of Diet Mountain Dew and some dark chocolate M&Ms. Mondays are usually slow in the medical office where I work. It wasn't slow. The phone. Add-on surgeries. The phone again. Faxes. More add-on surgeries. Phone. Phone. Phone. Missing equipment. Phone. Surgeries. Phone. Phone. Friggin' phone.
Bad news. About 10 a.m., I received an e-mail saying that I had to pay nearly $400 in taxes. By next Tuesday. I wanted to put a bullet in my temple by this time. On top of the phone and the surgeries and the phone and the missing equipment and the phones, I had to figure out where I'm going to find $400. I checked all my orifices and came up empty-handed.
That's Saint Marty's day in a nutshell. Long on bad. Short on cash.