It was somewhere deep in the late Tuesday afternoon, underneath an inverted ocean of clear, blue skies, sun shining high, that I was slowly working to the conclusion that it was simply going to be another one of those kinds of Tuesdays if you get my meaning.
Everyone loves to give Monday the deserved flak for being the vile, cruel Monday that it was, but Tuesday can get just as vicious, just as heartless if it wanted to at any time without any impending warning to soften the blow.
I certainly didn't get any.
At least with Mondays, you knew what to expect. When Tuesdays go bad, the betrayal cuts deep. And yet even after hours spent reconciling with that fact, I can still feel the sting.
It all started this morning with something small, simple… just the seemingly inconsequential funny-sounding sputter coming from my bike's exhaust pipe. If I weren't already rushing to my shift, I had probably given the time to give a damn.