Paula Light is the lovely hostess for The Monday Peeve, where I get to do the thing I cannot do in real life – air my inner most complaints.

I don’t like Mondays. Who does? I woke up to more than a dozen emails in my two combined work inboxes while I have reports to run and cash to reconcile, not to mention my brain is a galaxy away from work mode…

Meanwhile, my muscles are still sore from running a mile on Saturday. It’s been ages since I ran and now mom’s giving me a challenge to start training to ascend Mt. Fuji next year. I lost 7 pounds since June but I don’t think my body is cut out for this kind of training. Maybe not yet. The point is…I do not want to move today and I don’t appreciate mom bursting in mid-morning telling me her cherry tree is dying.

No, the cherry tree isn’t dying. It has a few scorched leaves from the sun and maybe a fungal disease and a potentially a borer problem but no biggie. I think the fungal disease is from the recent rain. As much as plants love rainwater, they don’t appreciate getting their leaves wet. When the leaves get wet, problems arise but it’s treatable, just not right this second as the temperature starts to heat up for the day.

But no, mom wants the tree fixed now. She started rummaging through my supply box, looking for the spray while complaining of the dust and how my frost, shade, and insect fabrics are occupying the storage box. Well, where am I supposed to put it? Worst of all, she started tossing my stuff out. She would’ve tossed my things in the garbage if I didn’t stop and commanded her to go back inside while I sorted everything out.

She’s been sneezing off the hook lately – probably allergic to something – and she’s been blaming it all on me. I told her to see an immunologist who can test her for allergies. I’m sure it’s something, just not my plants.

Anything, I ended up spending 30 minutes sweeping the bottom of the storage box, throwing stuff away while putting my stuff back where it belonged. Near the end of the 30 minutes, I started feeling lightheaded as shirt was sticky with sweat. I might need some Advil just to get through the day. In the end, after searching the garage and both of the storage boxes in the garden, the spray was nowhere to be found. Most likely, she lent it her brother next door and just like my shovel and garden hoe, they never gave it back.

Now back at my desk I have no idea what I was doing before the disruption and it will take me a while to get back to rhythm.

Great, oh well, at least I get a post out of it.