And motherfather I'm exhausted. Go on, world. Go on with your bad self, with your apostrophes in all the wrong places
and your inappropriate quotation marks
and your egregious spelling mishaps.
Because I am tired. I am tired and I am busy. Busybusybusybusy. Just ask J.
He knows that my frenetic pace has kept me glued to the computer screen, unable to mercilessly pester him as he attempts to nap.
I have tasks to tackle, social functions to grace, lawns to mow, and unmentionables to launder.
I certainly didn't have the sort of time on my hands this weekend to be sitting in my pajamas on the sofa at noon, taking wonky portraits of an increasingly irritated dog.
OK, back to "work."