He’d spend the time with the Sunday paper he’d saved, maybe playing golf, or catching up on his reading. Mondays were good times. Not today. For the second Monday in a row, he woke up tired and miserable. He dragged himself out of bed and made a pot of coffee and a plate full of toast. He smeared peanut butter on the lot, poured his coffee, and slumped in a chair in the living room. He would fire Millie Bass this morning. The thought made him feel a little better. He rushed through his Daily Office, skipped the Psalms, and barely skimmed the lessons. He promised God he would make it up to him later. At nine o’clock he left the house and walked to the office. Millie’s car was not in its spot. He waited until nine thirty and called her home. No answer. He looked at her calendar. It indicated she had a dentist appointment that morning. Had she told him about that? He could not remember. He would have to fire her tomorrow. He swallowed his disappointment and went back home.
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