I have a headache today.

I hate cleaning. I love writing. I love reading. I hate paying bills. I hate being the grown-up. I hate being responsible for the house being clean and dinner being on the table. I hate when my 17XX acts like a sarcastic buttmunch, I have to say,

"I understand and am happy that you are individuating, but you must treat the members of your family with respect." I want to say,

"Pull your head out of your ass, you spoiled little shit!"

When my 13XX wants her friend to come over because it 'so important' to her friend that I like her, I want to say

"If she didn't have such a trashy mouth on her MYSpace page, maybe there would be a chance in Hell that I would like her." but instead I say,

"Sure, she can come over, I'll find out what is important to her, and she'll see what's important to me, and we will get along fine."

The truth is 13XX deserves better. But I can't tell her that. She will take the trashy mouth's side.

When my kids are bitching at each other, I want to join in and scream the loudest. Sometimes I do.

I hate how often I want a glass of wine around 11 o'clock in the morning.

I hate that 10XY is a puzzle I can never figure out because the rules change daily. Sometimes I am not supposed to come within 18 inches of him. Other times I offend him because he sat next to me on the couch and I don't pull him over to me. I love him so much, but I don't think I love him well.

And now, I must leave beloved writing for hated cleaning. If I won the lottery, the first thing I would do is hire the most anal-retentive live in maid in the whole world.