Housecleaning is a never-ending job I hate

I have small children.  They make messes, like all small kids do.  Tonight, I found myself picking up change after a lesson between two of the kids on money.  They finding a train track in the hall.  Don’t forget laundry, which is definitely getting more sex than I am.  By 9 p.m. I am tired, cranky and it is time for the kids to be in the land of nod.

I am still puzzled at how I could once stay up to see the sunrise, dance until 3 a.m., camp out of a car and still make it back on Monday.  Remember that popular (in certain circles) Smith’s song? “Everyday is like Sunday?” Yeah, my every day feels like Monday.  A crappy side note: There was a girl Sunday who ran around the same parties I did.  She was pretty but would lay down with anything.  Her so-called friends would laugh and say “Every Lay is like Sunday.”  Another mind fart.

I am tired I had surgery on my leg.  It sucked.  I am so glad to not be a perpetually ill person. Well, discounting my crazy.  You know I had a lover who once said the more psycho the girl, the better the sex.  He is DY, and I think he would know.  Amazing what smooth charm, an above average vocabulary and a nice nest egg will bring you.  I was never in the running for a future Mrs. Y.  Sometimes, I look around and think why couldn’t I have been less me.  But, I know my happiness is in my truth.

I am a romantic and I love, love love the ABC series “Once Upon a Time.”


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