I Hate Mondays

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I wake up to the sound of my alarm going off. Rolling over, I hit the snooze. Ugh, It's 6:30 in the morning and it's a Monday, I thought , I hate Mondays. Groaning, I slide my feet out of bed. I rub my toes into my green colored carpet and stretch.

After I finished my morning ritual of getting ready for school, I went to the kitchen for some cereal. While munching on some Fruit Loops, I started to get the feeling that I was being watched. I set my spoon down and look out the window. Weird, usually when I feel like I'm being watched there's someone watching me, I thought.

Shaking off my odd feeling, I finish my cereal and grab my car keys. I jumped into my new Dodge Journey and inhaled its fragrance. It still had that new car smell. Putting the keys into the ignition, I start it up and turn on some Keith Urban.

There's another reason I hate Mondays other than it being the start of the week. It's the day that something always goes wrong for me. I don't know why and I don't know how it happens, it just does. So that's why I am feeling wary as I pull into the school parking lot. Nothing had gone wrong so far but it was just the beginning of the day.

When I get to first period, the only seats left are the ones in the front. Sighing with distain, I plop myself down and shrink into my chair. Right after, Ms. Brown steps into the classroom. For once she was on time.

"Class," she says with a nasal voice, " Due to the construction on the school lunch room, school will be cancelled for the next two weeks."

A round of whoops and shouts go off around the class. I just scowl. Great, I thought sarcastically, My literature test was supposed to be this week. I won't remember a thing after two weeks.

Sighing, I slouch down further and prepare to take notes. If Ms. Brown was known for anything, it was her notes. I prayed my hand would be intact by the end of her class.

                                                                ****TIME SKIP****

After I got into my car after school, I realized I hadn't packed my work uniform and groaned. Oh, no. My boss won't tolerate it if I'm late. He'll fire me on the spot. I guess I'll have to go to work without my uniform. Hope Mr. Burns won't be too mad.

"You're fired" was the first thing I heard as I entered Ruby Tuesdays, the place I work. Or used to, I thought as I looked up at Mr. Burns.

"Please Mr. Burns, don't do this. I left my uniform at home and I didn't want to be late." I pleaded.

"Better you be late than undressed. Now get out and come back when you know how to dress for your job." He says, closing the door in my face.

"Dang it. I hate Mondays. I hate Mondays. I hate Mondays I repeated to myself all the way home.

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