A Case of the Mondays....

There is an expression that is thrown around, that is actually one that really irritates me. I can't stand people who say "looks like you have a case of the Mondays" or anything that resembles that statement. I feel these people should be dragged through broken glass by their thumb nails. I know, very harsh, but you can understand how much I hate this expression.

That being said, having a case of the Mondays in my basement apartment seems to be a cue for excitement. The past 3 Mondays have been ridiculous. Company has arrived, beverages have been enjoyed, chaos has ensued.

I had finished classes for the day, and gone to the gym. After the big weekend that was my Buddy's birthday and Superbowl, I was looking forward to having a nice quiet night where I could simply shut the world out. This plan was interrupted with a call from the Magician.

You see, he had been over the previous week, and left his pack of cigarettes here. He asked if he could stop by to pick them up, and once he arrived, he sat down to relax and shoot the shit for a bit. The night took a turn when the Magician said "hey, you want a beer?"

My stomach wrenched up momentarily, and my liver pleaded that I let it rest. Yes, I would like a beer. My innards screamed in disdain for what I was about to do. I assured myself that it would only be a SINGLE beer, and then the night would continue as planned.

Before I could finish my first, a second was being handed to me. Then a third, and a fourth. "Let's go get a case" proclaimed the Magician. It was going to be another Monday.

The only rule I had was that we were unable to miss 24. I have two man crushes. Jack Bauer is one of them. Everyone involved agreed. Oh yeah, did I mention Big Red was here too? Because he was, and plays into the story.

After a few beers, I was looking around my sweet basement apartment, thinking that it doesn't get much better. Good beverages, good company, good times. I was very content. That changed when I noticed something on the ceiling panels above my bed.

"Red, do those ceiling tiles look wet to you?"

Without even looking up at them, he said "oh yeah they are. I noticed that earlier, and its been dripping on your bed. I can see the water dripping down"

Immediately I wondered, "how long has this ginger known that this was happening? Why the hell didn't he say anything? What an ass"

I climbed up onto my bed and started to move the ceiling tiles to check things out. They were moist enough that as I tried to lift them up, they cracked a bit and got me in the eye (that's what she said). I was relieved to see that it did not look like a leaking pipe, and hadn't gone down the drywall. Something had been leaking from the kitchen, which is right above my bed, and dripping down the floor boards.

I went upstairs to get the attention of my land lady and her live in boyfriend Bobandy. He came downstairs to confirm what I had already discovered, and we put a garbage bag onto my bed to prevent the leak from soaking my mattress.

Apparently what had happened was the "wrong dish soap" had been used in the dishwasher and it flooded the kitchen. My landlady yelled down "the lesson is don't use liquid dish soap." I'll keep that in mind tips.

Drinks and flooding ceilings are just the tip of the ice berg for a Monday night here in my basement apartment. I'm starting to think I might just not answer the phone on Monday from now on so I can just have a nice simple night. But that being said, recent history has shown that my cases of Mondays turn out to be pretty sweet.


**NOTE** A big accomplishment for me was achieved that night. After we had finished the first case of beer, I ran to the Beer Store, got another case and got back to my apartment, all between a commercial break. I figure that is pretty sweet.