Eggs at the bottom of the grocery bag
The blonde bounced out of bed early this morning, begged me to stop alliterating in my sleep, and because we were out of town over the weekend and she hadn't gotten to the grocery store and the cupboards were bare, she bounded off to our local bodega to bring home some bacon. Also some bagels, blueberries, bananas, butter, and Bisquik.
There are few cheerier places to be early on a sunshiny morning than a well-run and well-kept grocery store. But Mondays are Mondays. The blonde did not approve of the service she received---or didn't receive---and complained bitterly when she got home, "I think they put their most incompetent people on the early shift."
Full of the milk of human kindness I said, "Tut tut, my dear, be kind. Remember, it's Monday. Everybody's incompetent at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning."
This is a rule of life. Don't do anything important at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning. If your doctor says, "We need to schedule you for surgery," and you ask "When?" and he says, "How about 7 o'clock Monday morning," run for your life.
If you're an astronaut and NASA says, "Launch time's at 0700 Monday," refuse to suit up.
The general says, "Men, the attack begins at 7 AM Monday," lay down your arms.
You're a blogger and wake up at 7 on Monday with a great idea for a satirical post about Porter Goss...
Put it aside.
Write about your wife's trip to the grocery store instead.