A regular old Monday’s bad enough, but a Monday when you feel so out of shape your legs are like lead as you climb the stairs to the office, a Monday when you find yourself chugging Pepsi Max in an effort to stay conscious at your computer? Well those are the Mondays where you feel like maybe the Karma Chameleon is out to get you. (The Karma Chameleon is, I have always imagined, like a mean little leprechaun who comes to get you and make bad things happen to you as payback for former evils. I picture it shaking its red, gold and green little fist at me and glaring with yellow eyes. Oddly, it also wears sparkly bandanas and a lot of eyeliner.)
Today, I think the Karma Chameleon was coming to get me and pay me back for that one time in Junior High when my friend Shizzy and I pushed a kid into his locker and he hit his head and ended up going to the nurse’s station. Seriously. We were those bullies, and man oh man do I ever regret it, but what can you do about it now? Anyway, all day today the little jerk Chameleon was shaking his wee fist at me, and while I stared at my computer in a grump fog and out-of-shape-stupor, I tried to envision a future in which I’m in shape, running five days a week, able to wear my Sevens again (that’s Seven jeans—they’re not size seven. We’re far, far from that), and it actually kept me from stabbing myself in the eyeball with a letter opener.
