Won't you sing me to sleep?
I don't know if it's the awful week or just that I'm worn out. I am exhausted though. No one stops to think: I get one day a week. One day. Everyone else gets two, sometimes three. In her case, four. And my one day is filled with homework.
And now, a fucking dinner party. And a bratty kid's birthday party.
No one said I'm helping.
Get your precious Chelsea to help you. You tune me out when I talk, and I am sick of listening to the same bitching over and over.
Adam and I will be gone.
Good luck!
