She's bringing chocolate cake and is therefore welcome.
While I wait, I'm having coffee and have stuck Son#3 in front of his beloved Dora, on TV.
Yesterday I started working again, and I came home completely disheveled and in tears.
Poor little burnout girl.
This morning, my self-pity is gone, but my tension has remained.
Oh well.
Tonight I'll watch some more episodes of Breaking Bad (a high school chemistry teacher with terminal cancer that starts cooking up Meth to ensure his family is left with money after he dies).
Makes me feel rebellious and gives Frank Sinatra's I did it my way a new meaning.
Unfortunately, I can't cook.
Come on Lottery (for whom I have reverent respect):
Be mine before Monday Mo(u)rning.
.
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