Men can’t be praised. Once you do, they fuck up right there and then, and you pick up the shitty pieces. In this case, it was spending more than 30 minutes sweeping little chunks of dried up mud all over the floor – from the doorstep allllll the way to the kitchen. The fucking little chunks cracked and turned into bastardly sand, and it irked the hell out of me to feel sand under my bare feet. Not to mention, the baby would be crawling on the floor and pretty much rolling in the dried mud and sand bits.
Sorry doesn’t cut it when the offender is over 30 years old and has promised not to do it again.
I AM SO BLOODY SICK OF BEING AT THE MERCY OF EVERYONE ELSE AND CLEANING UP AFTER THEM.
There’s a strong urge to quit. Then I realised there’s no such thing as quitting. It’s getting so bad that I haven’t felt like getting out of bed for quite a while now. Waking up to face the same shit everyday (that unfortunately doesn’t even pay me) is not my idea of fun.
Yes. All I care about is money and having fun. Seriously.
I REALLY WANT TO QUIT.