Some Mondays are worse than others....

My Monday isn't so bad. My boss is back from vacation, but he's too busy catching up to spend time bugging me. And I had a great three-day weekend.

On Friday the Fourth, my folks took my kids and my son's girlfriend to the lake at Ridgway. For you movie buffs, that's the town where "True Grit" was filmed. I didn't go boating with them because the sun hates me (long story). So, Ranger and I traveled a little further south to Ouray. I love this town! I've been visiting Ouray since I was a kid. Here's a pic of it -- tiny town that's filled all the available space in this little canyon:

It's called the Switzerland of America. And it's a hoppin' place on the Fourth of July! I think the population doubles then. They have events all day, including a parade, barbecue, fireworks, and the crowd favorite - water fights.

Main Street Restaurant there has old pics of the town. One is from the 1920 4th of July water fights. Not many buildings are around, but people are jamming the edges of the intersection of 6th and Main, with more on top of the bordering buildings.

Today, they do the same thing. They come to watch two-man (or woman!) teams battle it out with fire hoses, until one team lands on their asses. Here's how it looked this year:



If you're near the action, you better bring dry clothes. That water hits HARD and it's COLD! Even if you're a little further back, you'll get wet when they point the hoses up and let the crowd get some rain. COLD rain! After all, the water is from mountain run-off, and they still have snow on their peaks!

Ranger, my son, his drama queen girlfriend, and I stayed for the fireworks. Nothing short of spectacular! They launch them from the mountain, so they go off right overhead (if you're on Main Street).

We left Ouray around 11:00 PM. We were exhausted. Ranger kindly offered to drive, as I was very dozy. My son and Drama Queen fell asleep in the back seat. I was watching the ribbon of tail lights ahead of us on the two-lane highway, starting to nod off, when all of a sudden....

"RANGER!! SLOW DOWN!!" screamed Drama Queen. And I mean SCREAMED. Strip your vocal cords kind of screaming. Then she fell into equally hysterical crying, prompting my son to comfort her.

Two things here. Ranger was not speeding. The traffic was actually moving rather slowly. And the hysterical crying was completely tearless.

Watching her little performance, I was reminded of a fake "fainting" spell she'd had in my kitchen a couple of days ago. She claimed to have fainted and fallen, but I saw her deliberately lay down on the floor before hand. Again, prompting my son to rush to her aid. Then, she asked to stay at our house that night, since her mother was off sleeping at her new boyfriend's house.

As soon as I took her home, she started calling about thinking someone was in her bathroom, making banging noises. Again, wanting my son to rush to her rescue and wanting me to let her sleep at my house.

Not on your life, kiddo. You just might be a psycho Drama Queen.

We got home from fireworks about 1 AM, asleep about 2 AM. I spent the rest of the weekend catching up on sleep, doing laundry, and remembering the far-off days when I'd stay up all night and still be able to take exams in the morning. Where did that go? Dang.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was doing okay. I didn't want to go to work, but that's how Mondays start, right? Ranger called and rubbed it in that he doesn't work today and was still laying in bed.

"You should be here, too," he said.

I groaned. "I know, but I can't. I have a meeting."

"After the meeting?"

I groaned again. I knew how this would go. If I snuggled up to Ranger, even for my lunch hour, I'd never get back to the office. Ranger doesn't know the word "quickie." Not that I mind, but if I want to stay out of the doghouse with my boss, I have to resist!

"No, sweetie, I really can't."

He sighed. "I know. I had to try, though!" And he went back to sleep. I was sooo jealous.

Soon, my phone goes off.

"Hi," says Greg.

"Good morning," I say.

"No, not really. I got some breakfast with my ex and some lady ran a stop sign and hit my van. It's my van but I let my ex use it. Now it's totaled."

"Is everyone all right?" I asked. But I paused. Why did he say that about the van? Unless they've come up with some arrangement, it's her van. It's registered to her (you can get that info in Texas). She drives it. She pays insurance on it. Greg has been lamenting not having a car and walking everywhere. By all appearances, it's not his van.

Another detail come back to me. "Wait, you're speaking to her again? Thought you weren't."

"Everyone's okay, but my back and neck are hurting," he replied. "And I'm not speaking to her really, but she was hungry and broke so I got her something to eat."

I said something about calling the other driver's insurance and seeing a doctor. greg called me back instead of texting.

"Yeah, my neck and fucking back are killing me. My fucking seat belt broke and slammed me into the fucking windshield. Now I'm fucking walking home from the wreck site. My ex's mom picked her up and she just fucking called me because she didn't get a fucking chance to ask me to pay the fucking electric bill before it gets fucking cut off tomorrow because it's still in my fucking name. And I'm so mad I can't stop saying 'fucking'."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I understand being that mad, though. Why don't you call the power company and see if you can get a day or two? Then get that out of your name NOW."

He played a nice little round of "yes, but...." for a few minutes. I let him go off on it. He'd think about it later, when he wasn't so upset.

The last I heard was that he was going to go home and smoke some pot to relax. Then, fortuitously, my phone battery died.

Suddenly, a Monday at same-old-same-old work didn't seem so bad. But I still wished for a nap with Ranger.