Flying Rats

Ah, Tuesdays. Most people abhor Mondays, correct? (If this is incorrect, then I'm sorry to inform you, dear readers, that you are just as weird as this demented writer. Oh you poor, poor soul). On the contrary to popular critics, I dislike Tuesdays.

There is, of course, a reason for my disapproval on this particular day. First of all, the word TUESDAY is the dirtiest word in the English language. It sounds like the sort of food you put in your mouth, chew on for a bit, then secretly spit out into a napkin whilst the hostess has her back turned. Yes, when I say the word TUESDAY, my skin shudders at the thought of having to beckon this ghastly, chewy word. Then, there is the small fact that it seems karma gets a delicious kick in targeting me on a TUESDAY, my one "day off" of the week. It is on these days, dear readers, where I have a day of blissful relaxation in a day off due to my day lacking in anything of great importance at University. Normally, people would take FULL advantage of these days and embrace them with much gusto. Normally, I would do this too, HOWEVER, dear Sir Karma gets a kick out of punishing me, even on these glorious days.

The previous TUESDAY fellow bygones, was a day that started out QUITE beautifully. I woke up to the sound of the waves crashing and the sun shining (it's starting to sound like a trashy novel, oh how affreux! If I didn't throw in some foreign words then this wouldn't be a trashy novel. OH how I pity the simple minded). THIS Tuesday proceeded with a trip to a large shopping centre where I was spoilt rotten by my mother and oh so debonair step father. It turned out to be a trip that was every little spoilt girls dream. We were given the credit card and told to run rampant.

FUN FACT: My mother is a shopaholic. She buys anything and possibly everything. We will walk into a typical, run of the mill, corner store to buy pain killers and walk out with bubble gum, a nail Polish to bright to ever actually wear out in public and a key chain. Why, you may ask incredulously. I do not know myself dear readers, it is a diseases. A disease, dear readers, that it seems I too posses. You would think this would make shop owners ex\cstatic, but on the contrary they tend to run and sound the alarm when they see us approaching. Interesting...

Now as the day progressed, I had a thought to myself that this particular day was turning out to be QUITE lovely. I may have possibly jinxed myself. You silly girl. I was quite happy at the end of the day, when we ventured home wards, with our bulging packets taking residence in the boot of our vehicle. Upon our arrival home, I thought it best to take my bags to my bedroom and unpack my clothes. So , like a new mother, I proudly placed my clothes on the bed, gently smoothing them out and admiring their beauty, gushing over their "new clothes smell" and soft, unworn fabric. I left them all out and ventured towards the kitchen in search of a quick snack and a cup of tea. As the day wore on into evening, I ventured back upstairs with another cup of tea back to the familiarity and comforts of my bedroom.

As I opened the door, turning the alluring metal door knob, I paused for a moment to silently smile at my wonderful day and lack of unluckiness. I stepped into my room and was greeted with a lovely flyinr\g rat, commonly known as a rock pigeon, sitting in my underwear basket. As I screamed in surprise, shock, terror (fear of birds, awful creatures), I threw my tea cup into the air, sending tea sailing through the air and onto my new clothes. The disgusting rat flew into the air in shock, flying into the wall once, twice, three times, before reaching it's escape through my balcony door.

As I surveyed the war zone, I sadly glanced at my, now drenched and tea stained outfits before letting out a sigh of defeat. It wasn't until I examined my underwear basket and realised that the OH SO LOVELY winged demon had left a gift for me in my underwear drawer, all over every piece of materiel I owned.
So as you see, my beautiful cherubs, TUESDAY'S are never fun and always end badly for this poor little lost soul.