I’ve had better Mondays.

My day started out with a visit the gynecologist’s office, as outlined below. As much as I claim otherwise, opening my legs for a stranger has never been a top priority for me – especially when the end goal is not mutual sweaty pleasure but instead nasty cold speculums, medical-grade lubricant, and admonishment for pubic shaving. As nice as the doctor was, it’s never a good way to start your day. There is cramping. I do not like it.

I decided to treat myself to breakfast on my way to work, so I went through McDrive Thru for a sausage mcmuffin. I asked three times for no cheese – once at the speaker box, once at the window, and again when they decided they had to park me and bring my order out. NO CHEESE. I hate processed cheese. My breakfast order is a sausage patty in an English muffin – no egg, no cheese, no fancy sauces – and that’s the way I like it.

Naturally, my breakfast had cheese on it.

Okay, whatever. I picked off all that I could, then wiped down the rest to make it cheese-free. I know there are starving children out there, and they are more than welcome to my cheese.

Fast forward to lunch time: I’m hungry. Faced with few options, I decided to give in to the horrible sandwich and grab a sub from Quiznos. I ordered my sub the way I like it, which is to say NO LETTUCE. I love me a good salad, but I cannot eat warm lettuce – the smell makes me gag. Confident that I’d been in there enough that I didn’t need to stand over the sandwich wrapper to remind her not to cram my sub full of lettuce, I went to pay and waited for my meal.

Naturally, my sub had lettuce on it.

I picked out as much as I could, swearing the entire time. The thing is, my sub was full of tiny pieces of chicken and bacon and bbq sauce. Picking the lettuce out was a messy affair, to say the least – which means my hands were covered in warm wet sticky sauce.

Have I ever mentioned my OCD when it comes to the cleanliness of my hands?

Dirty hands make me FREAK THE FUCK OUT.

Not only am I trying very hard not to gag at the smell of the warm lettuce, my hands are covered in horrible things which made my brain short circuit and had me running to the kitchen for some soap and water. I came back and tried to eat my lunch, but the smell of the lettuce had permeated the rest of the sub. I couldn’t eat it. I took it apart, ate as much chicken as I could stand to touch, then balled it up to throw at someone’s head. Today is not a good day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to wash my hands again.