GMIM: Tuesday Edition

Welcome to another installment of Good mourning, it’s Monday! This weekly blog looks to cover various topics in the news, along with personal stories or encounters from the past week at home and work to help you through your first day back at work (unless you don’t work). Hopefully my seven followers like this and share this to make it eight. Enjoy…

Clocking In

Weather: Nice, a.k.a. 69 degrees
Traffic: Sucked
Breakfast: Caramel latte
Zach on time?: For sure not
Physical Condition: Not great (post-Labor Day slumping)
Mornings without Starbucks: 134

Monday Tuesday After Labor Day Metaphor

Yeah, it’s a rough one today… or this week for that matter. There’s several days throughout the year that are worse than others. Thanksgiving morning, Black Friday, working after Christmas/New Year’s, the Monday after the Super Bowl, and others. But today? Today might be the worst of the bunch.

Labor Day weekend is the last hurrah of the summer, a final 72+ hours to squeeze out the rest of what summer has left to offer. Because of this, you might spend a little too much time in the sun wearing little too little sunscreen while drinking a few too many brews and not enough bottles of water. Yeah, that’s what we’re dealing with here on GMIM.

Despite being Tuesday, the day after Labor Day might be the most Monday type of day out of the entire year. The traffic is horrific and everyone is tired as hell. It takes a little longer to get settled into work, and maybe there’s a lot to catch up on as well. Then, the realization kicks in: summer is over. Yeah, it might get to be warm and sunny some days this month, but it’s not the same. It’s just not summer when kids are in school, work is in full force, and football is back.

We’ll get through this “Monday” together. Grab an extra coffee this morning, take a little extra time during lunch, and just remember: tomorrow’s Wednesday, and football is back the day after.


Gripe of the Week: Sticky Pad Mouse Traps

Last week, the lady and I pick up some sushi to enjoy back home. We sit in the kitchen to eat when I hear squeaking from the wall near the refrigerator. I couldn’t tell if it was from outside or in the wall, but it sounded like some sort of rodent. Well, wouldn’t you know, there’s two mice behind the fridge. My house has used traditional mouse traps previously, as they’re the quick snap ‘n kill to take care of those little furry bastards. But for some reason, we have one sticky pad behind the fridge.

One mouse is dead, and the other is squeaking and trying it’s hardest to get up. The struggling mouse is positioned with its face and limbs stuck, while its tummy is essentially planking. Not exactly the most ideal position for this poor fella. Plus, he’s been shitting himself out of fear, so there’s a pile of crap getting stuck under his tail.

Because of this squeaker, Lynds and I had to eat in the living room and blast some music to drown out the tiny screams of a desperate mouse. But I couldn’t even enjoy my meal; all I can think about is how I’m going to be playing the role of undertaker for this rodent. Plus, how the hell am I taking care of this? I’m sure as hell not touching the pad or mouse. At one point, the thought of going vegan ran through my mind because now I felt guilty eating a poor dead fish. (That thought quickly left my brain after enjoying a delicious bite of a Volcano Roll.)

So I finish my meal and start planning my mouse disposal. I grab a small paper shopping bag and a wooden grilling skewer and slowly drag the pad into the bag, all while mousy is squealing more. I head outside to put him and Mr. Dead-Ass in the one place I can think of: the trash. But here’s the problem: the trash is full. Actually, it’s overfilling. My choice was to place the bag on top, slowly lower the lid, and hope the top doesn’t crush his body to make his slow and painful death worse than it needs to be.

The moral of the story is this: just use regular mouse traps. They’re cheap, quick, and not nearly as inhumane as sticky pads. I don’t understand the purpose of these pads. It’s not like I can peel the little guy off and send him on his way. What if his fur and limbs rip off? Or worse, what if he returns with friends to get revenge on me? The last way I want to die is by the hands and teeth of a hoard of mice. Not ideal.

Song of the Week: Vacation

So long, summer.

Have any stories to share? Suggestions? Feedback? Send them to or Tweet me @ZacharyAdamGray