I feel like I should come with a warning: “can’t be counted on”. Ugh! I am having one of THOSE days. I didn’t deliver my (already late) registration cheque to the childcare agency we’re using to find a babysitter for Whitney (I tried, but it didn’t work out); I forgot a book I’m supposed to lend to a friend tomorrow at another friend’s house; I made kraft dinner and realized after I threw the pasta into the boiling water that I accidentally bought the whole wheat kind (which tastes even more disgusting than the regular stuff). Aaaand I’m feeding the latter to my 10 month old daughter for supper because, in addition to being the most irresponsible person on earth, I am also a bad mother. Epic failures all around today. And I’m eating oreos (oreoes?) for dinner. I’m thinking about quitting my job, going on welfare, and developing a heroin addition* next.
*I can’t even spell addiction right! I’d probably screw up that whole needle thing, anyway. I can’t even be counted on to do drugs right. Please just kill me.
Also, my dog just barfed up a bunch of Q-tips. Awesome.