So who ordered the double dose of Monday?

Another Monday has come and gone in the Tigress household and I feel I have taken the Mondayitis concept to a whole new level.

Previously I have heard people whinge and bitch on regular occasion about the requirement to rise early and return to work at the start of the week. But for the most part this fails to impress me as a reason for abject misery.

My recent Monday however....well that’s a different story.

Now in this particular weekday’s defence, it is not its fault that my beloved Kevman (he’s like a Navman but with waaaay more features :D) flies out to work every third Monday, and to be fair, he does fly back in on one two weeks later....

But to add to my cause for snuffling on this particular Monday, I kinda bent the car.

I have my darling’s Holden SV6 at my disposal while he is away and thus it was what I was driving home from the airport on this particular Monday. But, it was wet...there was a roundabout....I had to change lanes mid turn.....

It did not end well.

In fact, after careening into a curb, then up and over it (ultimately entering the road I actually required) I was somewhat rattled...though extremely grateful that it was a public holiday and no other traffic was on the road at that time of the morning. 

I briefly entertained the thought of stopping, but after noticing the car was driving like a hairy goat I just wanted to get it, and me, home to assess the damage.

Miraculously it was only the wheels that copped it: two comprehensively flat tires and a nifty new wheel alignment. I knew I needed help....then the text came:

“Did you make it home ok honey?”

Crap.

“Ummm, sort of...”

He took it well really considering the bond most guys have with their vehicle. His only concern was for my welfare and within an hour or so his Dad was at my door to investigate the state of me and the slightly injured vehicle

Now the Kevman’s Dad is a lovely man but comes equipped with a rapier wit when the mood takes him, which is frequently. On this occasion, however, he behaved in a most concerned fashion and didn't even stop to tell me what a daft tart I was for launching one and a half a ton of motor vehicle up a curb

Instead of the acidic backchat I felt I deserved, he simply grasped my shoulders and asked if I was ok.

I detected possible overtones of: “Jesus Christ lass, my boy has finally found a woman he likes, quit trying to damage yourself.”

But I could have been mistaken. He may have just been incredulous at the efficiency with which I break things.

After reassuring him I was merely feeling somewhat shaky, he went about the process of changing the tyres and generally making sure the car was drivable to get said tyres replaced....there would be no fixing these babies, they were munted.

He also informed me that I probably had a slow leak in the left rear tyre which is what would have caused me to lose traction.

In other words, it wasn't really my fault.

Alrighty then...I'll take that. And you sir, are welcome here any time you like.

Overall, it wasn’t too traumatic an experience and things could have been much worse, but Monday? Really? Sometimes you just ask to be hated.