I spent last night in the top bunk. With my feet hanging off the edge, and a stuffed bear?dog?monkey? under my head.
It was spring for a minute, yesterday. The snow started again, this morning.
We are out of anything good to eat, and I don’t have the energy to grace the grocery store with my presence.
I’ve got this headache, that feels like someone has one of those nasty little digging tools the dentists use to make that abhorrent scraping sound, and they’re using it to randomly poke and dig in the folds of my grey matter.
I ran my husband’s wallet through the washing machine. Again. I tried to make it his fault. He wasn’t biting. Passive aggressive disagreement ensued.
There’s only 40 minutes left of today. I realize I could have cut it short by going to bed. But now, I feel like it’s a pissing contest between me and this crap day. I’m not going out like a punk, I’m riding this thing out till the bitter end.