It’s Only 9:49: a ramble

Does it matter that it’s only 9:49 and already I have had to deal with a disgruntled parent, a tantrum throwing seven year old, a dog wearing a sweater, a bag of ice melted on my counter, more repeating than I should ever have to do, more repeating than I ever want to do, and more repeating? Should I call it a day? Should I throw in the towel? Should I call it belly up? Should I look into new cliches? Sometimes I feel like someone or something has laid eggs in my brain and is trying to control me.…

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