Tuesday, February 16, 2016


I'm still in my work clothes when Katie arrives home, which means I worked late, and that, plus staying up too late last night, has me irritated from the jump.

She offers to start dinner, but instead of asking her to let me do it, I call to her from the bedroom half-heartedly that I have a recipe I'd like to try, and she shrugs and gets out of my way.

The real issue is that I've worked all day doing stuff that other people want me to do, which is, I suppose, what most people through history have just called "being an adult."

I just want to do something for myself, exactly the way I want to do it. 

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