Is it Tuesday Yet?
I don’t like to whine, ‘cause with McHotty’s schedule we have it pretty good. But. It’s not pretty when he has to work every fucking holiday Monday of the summer. And it doesn’t help that Cakes has decided she’s done with naps. I didn’t realize how much I depended on her naps until I lost them. A holiday Monday in the city, with no one at the park, and a toddler up at the crack of dawn is just painful. She has inherited my temper, and today we did not get along one bit. It’s only 6:15 and I just put her to bed because I can’t stand her for another second. The saddest part? She went willingly, because she is sick of me today too.
So now, I’m going to make myself a stiff cocktail, and try to salvage this never-ending day with an advance copy of the new Nino Ricci. And I’ll try to stop thinking about taking up smoking again. Seriously, I’m this close to bumming one from my neighbour.
Labels: fuck me