Case of the Mondays...on Friday

Morning world, as many of you know from reading my blog and from knowing me, I work in downtown Washington DC and I, like all humans, occasionally have bad days.  This is a quick story about how today started.

I rolled out of bed at the my second alarm and just kinda fumbled around the room grabbing clothes, writing a check, and singing "Jukebox Hero" out loud to myself.  Typical morning, right?

So once I'm dressed, I hop in the car and head to work.  Seeing how I got to where I park about forty five minutes early, I decided I could take a thirty minute rest and listen to the Junkies on the radio for a bit before starting to walk a few blocks to my building.

This is where the bad case of the Mondays comes in and is also kinda the point of this post, if you thought the point of the post was so that you guys could all picture me fumbling around the bedroom shirtless singing Foreigner songs, I appreciate it, but it's really just a nice little introduction and great way to pointless ramble on and on and on.

Some of you who have been reading my blog for a while remember me retelling the story of my favorite member of the Washington DC Homeless Society, "Tony Romo", if you don't, please read the quoted section from my "Gotta Love the WMATA" post...

I've seen "Tony Romo" around the area before, he's usually sitting around the Navy Memorial behind the Archives building, guarding his cart full of needles (there's no needles in his cart...that I can see), sleeping bags, tin foil, and American flags. There's a story behind those flags and I need to hear it in the worst way, but that's not the point.

So I saw "Tony Romo" sitting on a bench near Constitution Avenue throwing some random tooth-sized things at his feet, attracting pigeons who were eating whatever it was. I looked away thinking that he was just feeding pigeons, people feed pigeons, people usually don't do something crazy and drastic when you look back at them feeding pigeons. 

"Tony Romo" did something crazy and drastic.

"Tony Romo" f*cking kicked a pigeon. Like, he pulled his leg back and swung like Adam Vinetari winning a Super Bowl. He drew this pigeon in with malicious intent, I was speechless. All the damn birds could do was scatter all about the place, all I could do is pick my jaw up off the ground and walk by like I didn't just see that happen. I wish I had more words or jokes to sprinkle on top of the ice cream sundae that is the story of pigeon kicking, but I think it sums itself up so damn well I don't want to taint it with more words.

Rocket J. Squirrel, aka "Rocky"

So getting back on topic, I was walking down the block near the "Washington Design Center" blasting Alex Clare's ""Too Close" and just looking around when I see a squirrel that looks really, really, happy.  Why was  Rocket J. Squirrel so happy?

Now, I was just grumpy this morning, I was tired and hungover-ish (Well, I was just straight hungover I think), and I just decided I didn't want any squirrels to be happy on this day.  

So I kept walking, cursing squirrels under my breath, when I notice something.  A pile of peanuts next to a tree that had clearly been placed there by someone who doesn't hate squirrels on Fridays.

So I took them.  I took peanuts from those four legged versions of seagulls.  Am I proud?  Not really.  Did it feel good?  Little bit.  I just threw the peanuts in the garbage and listened to the squirrels weep, or something.  I dunno, when I threw them away the bass dropped on the song and I couldn't hear them.  Am I a bad person?