I hate Sunday's because they are never a day of rest for me. It's always the beginning of another rush. It's 11:45pm and I am running around trying to clean my house and trying to figure out how little sleep do I need that I could still function tomorrow. I really need to try to get to work at like 5 because I need to do some things. If I get to work at 5 that would require me waking up at 3 something. I am working a 3 day work week this week but I'm already exhausted. I am suppose to go out with my bff M tomorrow night for drinks for St. Pattys day but I just don't know if I will be able to do it yet.
My trash is over flowing, I can't get to the dishwasher because of the dishes, the clothes and toys are about to form a monster at any given moment to swallow me whole. But, my bathroom is clean and there is a very teeny tiny pathway to the door if I need to run fast from the clothes monster once he is able to get through the trash and climb the dish mountain. No, this is not an episode of D0ra!
Btw, there's nothing like spending six hours at your dad's house while your brother works on you car to listen to your dad bitching about how much weight you've gained and trying to explain it's called P-C-O-S not F-A-T-A-S-S. Please, someone, hurry and get my parents the award for parents of the year before some other jackass wins it for showing their daughter more love in one week.
1 comment:
:( Why would your dad say that to you? Geez.
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