Tuesdays are gonna kill me. No really. They're definitely out to get me.

Most people hate Mondays because they are the first day of a week of slavery, whether it be to school or to a job.  Even people who don't technically have to get up for any reason seem to still blame poor little Monday for everything wrong with the weekly calendar.  Shoot, even The Mamas and The Papas wrote a song about how Monday betrayed them. You know the one... "Monday, Monday. Can't trust that day.  Monday, Monday. Sometimes it just turns out that way."

Song stuck in your head yet?  Cuz I can type up the rest of the lyrics to really get it good and embedded in there.  *cackle*

At the moment, I kinda like Mondays.  Provided I have kept myself on schedule throughout the week, all I have to do on Mondays is get up to chase my littles off to school and do whatever housework I pretended I couldn't see the night before. After that, I don't have a schedule to meet the entire day until Steve comes home and I drag him over to the church to haul food boxes around for me while I count out 175 each of eight different ingredients for the FUEL bags our church donates to a school each week.  Then we go back home and I fill the rest of my evening with whatever little tasks I can cram into the remaining few hours before my bed stomps through the house, ambushes me, drags me kicking and screaming back to the bedroom, and my blankets suffocate me into a four or five hour coma...

...then Tuesday lands right smack in my face.  Usually in the form of one VERY stinky mother cat who needs her cage cleaned.  Immediately.

The day begins something like this:

Steve mutters and grumbles at me until somewhere deep in my sleepy little subconscious, I finally become aware that if I don't get out of bed and fix the stink NOW, there's a very good chance he's going to shove me into the cage with it.

I groggily trudge across the room and flick on some random light switch along the way which elicits another slew of mutters and grumbles as Steve buries his face under a pillow to hide from smell and light.

I open the door to Squeaker's (yes, that's her name) cage in order to clean out the biobomb/alarm clock.

Four fuzzy bottlerockets shoot out of the cage like someone sprung a jack-in-the-box.

Squeaker calmly steps out of the cage, eyes her 3 week old brood, and pointedly gives me that "you're babysitting now" look as the kittens stumble around the room in clumsy pursuit of anything they probably shouldn't be climbing or chewing, including each other's tails.

A few seconds into cleaning out the "facilities" in the cage, kitten #1 realizes I'm not paying attention to her and fixes the error by climbing into my lap... via my spine.

Kittens #2 and #3 have, by this time, discovered my toes are bare... and apparently edible.

Kitten #4 is walking UNDER her mother while trying to nurse as Squeaker desperately attempts to keep the little parasite at bay for a few minutes.

Eventually the litter is cleaned and put back into the kennel, along with fresh water, and food for the new mama.

One by one the kittens are tracked down and put back into the cage.  

One by one the kittens rocket back out of the cage when I turn my back to catch a sibling.

Wash, rinse, repeat for five minutes until I sprout six arms and stuff everyone back inside with much the same technique one uses to close an overflowing suitcase.

I collapse back into bed with threats of slow and painful, but justifiable, murder if Steve wakes me up when it's time for him to get out of bed.

That's all before daylight.  Once my alarm goes off and the actual day begins, Tuesday really starts to gets mean.

6:30 am - roll both kids out of bed and get them moving in the general direction of preparing for the school day

6:45 am - after getting dressed, making the bed, feeding indoor cats and outdoor ferals, checking on mama and babies, and gathering college coding books, roll both kids out of bed and get them moving in the general direction of preparing for the school day

7:00 am - threaten both kids with dumping buckets of frozen marbles into their beds if they don't get their butts out of their bloody beds and get moving in fast forward to prepare for the school day

7:30 am - remind both kids that should they miss their bus because they're dawdling, I will come back from my class and risk life in prison to chase them down the road to school while pulling off a thoroughly impressive Cruella DeVille impersonation

7:33 am - bolt out the door with 70 pounds of coding books and a laptop to get to class in time

10:00 am - bolt out of class with 70 pounds of coding books and a laptop to get to the church

10:30 am - meet my volunteers to put together 175 bags for students at an elementary school who will need the snack bags over the weekend, in some cases being the only food the kids may get until the next school week begins

11:30 am - drive across town to deliver the bags to the school (well OF COURSE I obey all road rules! Why would you ask that??)

12:00 pm - haul 175 bags into the school

12:15 pm - pointedly ignore the now thoroughly pissed off spine threatening to mutiny in spectacular fashion

12:45 pm - get home and start coding homework

3:30 pm - jump out of my skin when my phone rings because Steve is coming home

3:55 pm - grudgingly allow the kids back into the house now that they're home from school, and kiss peace and quiet goodbye for the night

4:00 pm - break up the first fight over electronics and chase children off to do their homework

4:05 pm - break up the second fight over electronics and chase children off to do their homework

4:15 pm - tell children that I am not doing their homework for them, especially as I have my own homework to do, then watch them shuffle away as if I'd just ordered their favorite dog euthanized

4:20 pm - break up the third fight over electronics and chase children off to get threatened by their Dad about doing their homework and leaving Mom alone to do her homework (sense a theme here?)

6:00 pm - realize what time it is and work out plan to be at choir practice, Cub Scouts, and a business travel party at 6:30.  In three different locations.

9:00 pm - get back home and glare at the still unfinished homework, fresh dishes that multiplied when I wasn't looking, and dirty laundry that couldn't be bothered to wash itself

11:30 pm (or thereabouts) - turn in homework assignment and take weekly quiz

11:45 pm - crawl into bed while trying not to wake Prince Charming who took care of our offspring so I wouldn't eat them

11:50 pm - get woken up by my FitBit complaining that I missed my daily step goal because I was sitting on my butt doing homework all day

11:53 pm - inform Steve that he will need to buy me a new FitBit because mine spontaneously shattered into a gazillion pieces for some strange reason after what may or may not have been vigorous and repeated applications of a sledgehammer to its face