Mondays

I trudged towards the kitchen, and on getting the milk out of the fridge I noticed through the window that the street below was filled with goats. Billy goats, I presumed. I turned to my wife and said, there are lots of goats out of the window. She sighed and said, pass me the milk. I passed the milk and replied, don’t you think it’s strange there are goats everywhere? Look, there’s hundreds of them. I looked out of the window to see all of the goats, completely filling the street, looking up at me. I edged back quickly. There’s even more goats now, I said. She replied, what’s your fucking problem? It’s Monday morning. I’m tired of your shit. I said, I didn’t mean anything by it, just that there’s a lot of goats and it's strange. She said, I’m late for work now, because of you. She left her cereal uneaten soaking up the milk in the sink and headed out the front door.