I'm very bad at predicting the future. This was going to be a Monday, no matter what, so I was right about that. But thanks to unforeseen circumstances it might as well have been a Thursday. For one, the Boss was sick. Now, I don't wish ill health on anyone, least of all anyone who pays me to watch telenovelas all day, but the phone was really quiet today. It was quiet until tonight, when I was on the wrong end of every misdialed number and misguided telemarketer in the free world.
When the Boss called at 5:30 and told me he was going home, I knew he was really sick. He usually works from way before I get up until long after I've cashed in for the day. I guess tomorrow will be quiet, too. But then, I'm a bad predictor.
By now I thought I'd have adjusted to the time change, but I was wrong about that, too. Instead, I'm adjusting to being maladjusted. I don't know why I keep waking up so early, but it does give me more daylight to work with. These warm, sunny days (a little cooler today, with a breeze) are almost worth getting up early for.
In spite of getting up before I was ready, I thought I was well rested. It took me until I was out on the roadways before I discovered I was wrong about that, too. Whenever all the other drivers are so bad that they force me to shout instructions at them in the most colorful language I know, it means that I probably didn't get enough sleep. I confirmed that later on this afternoon when I spilled a can of Diet Dew all over my desk. I'm not that clumsy when I'm rested. It ruined a few papers, but I got the TiVo remote out of the way in time.
Finally (finally!), I was bound to be wrong about the baseball game tonight, because first I thought the Giants were going to lose, then I thought they were going to win, then lose, then win. They lost, so I was wrong only half the time.