Mondays

She interrupted him. "It's been a thousand years since you've had to work, you sleep all day, prowl all night, and do as you like." He stared at her, silent. "So, tell me," she continued (annoyed), "why on earth does it matter that it's Monday? What, exactly, do you have to complain about?" Dracula looked over at the roaring fire in the hearth and then, sheepishly, back to Wife #3. "Everyone's in such a bad mood, it makes the blood acidic," he replied softly. She gasped (because it hadn't occurred to her and it made perfect sense).