I need to post something while the stupid fucking kid stomps around upstairs. And I’m horny. And I drank too much coffee, or too little– I gotta order a new ball hair trimmer. Another binder for my DVDs. Never watch but can’t throw them away. Repair the fish tank. To do this, drain the fish tank. I don’t even know where the leak is. Fuck, I don’t want to get rid of it. I want a fish tank. My recurring – fuck — did I yell audibly. Did I yell audibly at them stomping around. And they fucking heard me. Well they stopped stomping. They stomp and it drives me crazy. And I yell. And they stop. And I feel guilty. You can’t fucking win. Continue reading
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