Oh, how I hate Tuesday.

Thank God this day is almost over. It has been hellish, agonizing, unendurable torture.

First the coffee maker didn't start. No fresh brewed aroma wafting through the house, welcoming the dawn. No, LED illumination lighting the way to a good morning. No, the button had to be pushed, by hand, in the dark!

Then it was cloudy, drizzly, crappy, the kind of weather that is so bad that it only get worse. Not enough rain to run the windshield wipers, but enough to make it difficult to see. Just enough for the wiper to smear into an awful mess. With a terrible screech assaulting the ears. No amount of the Grateful Dead can cover that sound, not even He's Gone from the Europe 72 Live, which will fix almost any problem imaginable.

Next my blue tooth headphones were dead. I forgot to charge the battery! Now I am tethered to my phone, like a dog on a leash. Every time I move the collar tightens choking the life from my pathetic, wasted day.

And to add a little insult to the injury laying in ambush, to scrape away the last bit of hope, they installed a new traffic sign over by the donut shop! They are taking this health consciousness a little too seriously.

But, hey tomorrow is Wednesday, and that is whole new game!

Wednesday, It Isn't Weekend, But It Isn't Monday, Either.

Today is Wednesday, and that means something here at Life Explained. It means the week is half over, and we have put the bad days (Monday and Tuesday) behind us. Monday stinks, positively reeks, you are faced with the prospect of 5 grueling days of toil, and labor, with no hope of escape. Tuesday is Monday without all of the pleasant afterglow of the weekend, so Tuesday is pretty smelly as well. But, Wednesday, that is a different beast.

Wednesday, the antechamber to the weekend. On Wednesday the coffee is a little crisper, and the air is a little cleaner. If you look hard enough you can see the weekend "ship of liberty on them iron waves so bold and free"* steaming in to your rescue. We love Wednesday. Too bad it only comes once a week, and we have to suffer through the hardships of the early week to get there.

One fine day, as we were drinking the tasteless, tepid coffee of a Monday, and trying to choke down the bagels of an oppressive work week, Bob, from R and D burst into the kitchen. Shaking with an excitement not normally seen until at least noon on Thursday, he said "I have solved our early week issues!"

"I have taken the digital clock from the rec room, wired it to the reactor core in the sub basement, and ran the whole thing through the time clock. Every Monday when the clock hits 9:00 AM, the whole company will shift to Wednesday, at 11:00."

"Why Wednesday, and why 11:00 AM?" Someone asked. The question was sincere, but the happiness at the prospect of skipping Monday and Tuesday was noticeable in the voice.

"I chose Wednesday, so we could have time to plan for the weekend, and 11:00 so we would have time to plan for lunch." That made perfect sense.

Everybody started scurrying around to account for the important things, like cancelling any vacation requests they had for Monday or Tuesday. No point in wasting them. And the coffee was tasting smooth.

Time travel, even in short, repetitive bursts, is tricky. Have you ever recorded a macro in Excel and thought it was beautiful. Taking the contents of several scattered cells, summing them and placing the total in a separate sheet, adding a touch of formatting for flair, and then printing it out. Life would be so much easier. Only you forgot to click the little "relative cell reference" box. Every time you ran the macro it added the same numbers from the same cells, making you and your computer look like complete morons. Time Travel can be like that.

So Monday, at 9:00 we moved to Wednesday at 11:00 and feasted. Using all of the lunch money we had saved from Monday and Tuesday to really make pigs of ourselves.  Then on Thursday, at 9;00 we ended on Wednesday, (the day before, not the next week, we think) at 11:00! This really screwed up a lot of vacation plans.

So, we disabled the digital clock, and the time clock, and our big plans, and suffer through the painful, dreadful days of the start of the work week. We gave Bob a little bonus for trying, but revoked his rec room privileges, he cost us a digital clock, after al;t
.

*From "Caribbean Wind" by Bob Dylan, Dr, Dawg says give it a listen.

Maybe we should try "social welfare organization."

We, here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) have decided to become a tax exempt organization.  It is a lot easier to make some serious cash that way.  Plus, it would really cut down on the paperwork, probably.  We are not sure what type yet, but we are leaning toward a Labor Organization, since we have been known to really bust some sweat, particularly on Taco Tuesday, man it can get intense.

Each person in the line douses his taco with the spiciest, hottest salsa, and then adding crushed, red peppers, and tabasco. Everyone, to a person, pouring on a little more than the previous consumer.  All in an effort to prove his superior masculinity, and worthiness, as evidenced by his ability to endure burning, blinding, crippling pain, and toxic heartburn.  "Oh, did you add hot sauce to yours, I don't see any," and similar remarks inflame the situation.  Teaspoons are replaced by table spoons, giving away to serving spoons, to ladles, eventually somebody will just pour it over the top of his taco, a volatile, inflammatory gravy.

Jalapeno, habanero, and ghost pepper odors mixing with the smell of uncontrolled agony, and the sounds of weeping, and thrashing about overwhelm the senses.  People are laying on the floor, palsy beginning to set in, longing for a drink of water, hoping for release.  But, still saying, "this is kind of mild, isn't it?  We should really get something with a little kick.  Unless you guys can't handle it."  Sweat and tears streaming down a reddened face contorted by torment, asking for just a touch more Red Devil sauce.

But, we don't know if that kind of labor once a week is enough to get us by.   Remember what Groucho Marx said.  "The secret of life is honesty, and fair dealing.  If you can fake those, you've got it made."  We needed a backup plan.

Maybe we could file as an educational and research facility 501 (3) (c).  It makes sense, we are always learning, and teaching, and research is the engine that drives the boat.  We are born educators, with a passion for knowledge.

Last Tuesday we asked our CPA about the chances of getting a 501 (c) plan, and he said we would be lucky to get a 501 (d-).  Maybe Mexican food doesn't agree with him, some lightweights
can't handle a little spice, you know.