It was universally agreed upon by everyone at work that yesterday was the Monday of all Tuesdays.
Our customer-service faces were very thinly plastered on, and Surly, Pissy and Snappy joined the dwarf squadron.
"Oh, but you just had a three-day weekend. You should be happy!"
Yeah, well, bite me. Three days is almost enough time to get used to the idea of what life could be like without work. Then Tuesday morning yanks the frickin' rug out from underneath you.
I need a vacation, and I need to go shooting. For the sake of the firearms community's public image, I'll try to wait until I'm off duty to indulge in the latter.