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Yep.  I finally splatted on the cement from a 5 story parking garage after I posted last night.  I ate dinner in bed, had Monkey take my plate and was buried under the covers a little after 9.  I was that mom issuing orders from her sick bed.  And frankly, I wouldn’t have cared if the kids changed or brushed their teeth, but when you share a bed with a 9 year old that breathes in your face at night.  No.  Saint happinen.

It a little before 10 am and I could sleep until the absolute last minute before I get my kids from school.  My arm and shoulder and back hurt/are in flames/numb to the point of is it even there.  I can’t sleep through the night.  Yay.  Fuckall.  

I have my window cracked to feel the fall breeze even though I’m biting under my blankie.  2 days til I’m outta here for the weekend-when I start the hourly countdown, be afraid.  Be VERY afraid.  I could spontaneously combust from the excitement-if I didn’t feel as if I swam laps in the novicaine pool.  At least I ate my yogurt and granola.

I’m over this entire city living.  The noise sets me teeth on edge, the traffic makes me angry, and the fact they want to build warehouses directly across from my parents housing addition has my mind and body in flight mode.  I need quiet.  I need peace.  I need small town living.  I need me a good old southern gentleman with MANNERS and who isn’t a fucking hipster nor worried about the next latest and greatest.  I need adoration and attention and love and affection-and it SOOOOOO is not happening here.  

I’ve always been a southern girl at heart.  And I’ve always wanted to own an old plantation-blame Gone With the Wind for that one.  I’m tired of the same old shit here.  

I just want my New Years peace I asked for…which apparently exceeded the yearly maximum for the New Years baby.  Little fucker.  

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