Holy Hell

I slept until almost 5:00. Think I slept through the night, too.

Every room in this house is a disaster. People don’t get it. My stepmother is like, “Why don’t you just clean when you get home?”

“I get 20,000 steps a day doing what I do,” I tell her. I simply don’t have the energy. In my entire life, I don’t think I’ve ever been this active. And I was a ballet dancer.

I can’t really be expected to come home and do even more, can I?

No, really. Warehouse workers of the world, you tell me: do y’all come home after a full day of work and do chores? If you do, I want to know, so I can step up my game if need be. It’s possible I’m not doing enough. Maybe I need to push myself harder.

Because I can’t have people over like this. The kids want to bring their friends here, and I’ve always got a massive cleanup in front of me.

Say it with me: THERE’S GOT TO BE A BETTER WAY.

They’re old enough to clean up after themselves, now. They should be able to help me if they want to invite people over. I can’t be expected to do it myself.

*Deep breath* Okay. I’m over this diatribe. Let’s move on.