Not fair.

I don't think you can call it a Vacation Day if it's now 3 pm and you are just now putting on your big girl clothes, Because you have been sitting in your bathroom trying to get ready, but instead you are getting text after text from your incompatant coworkers with questions about the office operations that a trained donkey could handle. Yep, I think I'll be billing the company for my time.

And in other news...

Finally dug all of my fabulous winter clothes out of storage and packed them nicely into a bin and brought them upstairs to be washed. So, understandably, my mother confuses the tupperware bin with a bag of decomposted garbage and throws the bin into the dumpster. I'm finally hearing about this now, exactly 5 days after Garbage Day. So, here I am now layering summer clothes on myself to stay warm like a transient in the lost and found bin at the YMCA. The only solace I have is that my $290 Ralph Lauren snowboarding jacket may make a comfortable home for a family of raccoons.

If I knew that breaking up with The Ex and moving back in 'with' my mom would cause me this much stress, I may have reconsidered. But, on the other hand, I most definitely would have made the same choice. Because, of the end of the day, a few nice jackets and wool leggings is a small price to pay to avoid a life with someone whose relationship ideologies are based off of that of the Nazi regime.