Dont sleep on the tracks and dont talk to the police

Ah, this past weekend was like a long, drawn-out sigh in the grand opera of life, and just to sprinkle a bit of extra salt in the wound, I’ve yet to figure out how to deal with the impending doom of a work meeting that’s decided to overstay its welcome into late Tuesday. I affectionately dub Mondays “Survival Days”—it’s the day every week when you channel your inner ninja, avoiding human contact like it’s the last slice of pizza at a party. Engaging in conversation? A big no-no. Sleeping on the tracks? Only if you’re aspiring to be a cautionary tale. Chatting up the police? Not unless you’re pitching a buddy cop movie script. And venturing onto the internet? Forget about it; that’s the virtual equivalent of sticking your hand in a blender. So, while the world continues to spin in its chaotic dance, I’ll be over here, cozily wrapped up in the warm blanket of nostalgia, reliving the good ol’ days.