I take one more look around at the mess on the floor. Then the events of Saturday seep in. That child, that fucking awful night out with the Zozo teachers, the embarrassing trip home through the rain … and something on my carpet. Now there is only one thought on my mind.

“I am so hungry.”

Might as well find something around here to eat.

“Ima okina-EE-to, okurema-SOO, yo … Ima okina-EE-to, okurema-SOO, yo …”

I open my eyes. It’s Tuesday. For sure, this time. It has to be. And this time, I’m taking my fucking umbrella.

I eat some tamagoyaki with my toast today and pop on one of my child-friendly cotton shirts and dress pants, fresh from the laundry. Yesterday I felt pretty warm, so it isn’t time to break out the long sleeves yet (I don’t care what anyone says). For lunch, what starts out as Kraft Dinner becomes a hefty portion of baked macaroni and cheese with sautéed shiitake mushrooms, some leftover broccoli from one of my 7-Eleven bentos, and a panko crust that I mixed with black pepper and nutmeg. Outside, there’s a light drizzle, and the air is cooler today. Maybe a little too cold for most people this morning, so the streets are emptier than usual. How I wish I could join the people presumably cooped up in their cozy little homes. After yesterday, I’m not too eager to go to Zozo. Hell, I’m not too eager to even be awake right now.

“Good morning!” says a cheerful voice behind me as I snap my giant plastic umbrella into the bike holder. It’s the old shrine worker. “Ogenki desu ka?”

“Hai, genki desu. Um …” I try my luck. “Ojisan wa?”

“Hai, hai, meccha genki ne! Welcome!” His eyes are friendly. “Welcome … to Japan!”

I laugh. “Arigatou gozaimasu. Ittekimasu.”

“Itterasshai! Ganbatte ne!”

“Hai, ganbarimasu!” I give him a genuine smile. He continues down the street, clacking his wooden blocks in a steady rhythm. What a nice man. He must walk by here around this time every Tuesday. Why couldn’t all my Tuesdays start out like this? No … why shouldn’t they?

I muse over this idea as I cruise down the streets on my rusty, trusty bike. That’s been my problem. I’ve been starting my days off on the wrong feet. Yesterday was not only a fluke but also a sign. Being late and not getting caught must have been the universe’s way of telling me that things in my life need to change. I need to up my genki back to what it used to be. I wasn’t always this grumpy spinster with no friends and nothing to look forward to in the drudgery of a thankless job. Meccha ganbarimasu: I will do my freaking best.