I’m home from Florida, and I’m tired. It’s not just from lack of sleep.
My head hurts, my heart hurts, and less than 24 hours after returning, my husband is sleeping in the basement because I took it out on him, and I’m too tired to work it out .
The rest of my family thought that coming over for dinner was a better idea than going to a restaurant for my sister’s birthday, so that we could all have a visit. I barely cracked a smile and let everybody else do all the work.
I’m seven months pregnant and my dad is dying. He just turned 65 and he weighs 122 pounds. Ten pounds less than I do.
I’ve unpacked my bags, but the ones under my eyes will be harder to get rid of.
If it weren’t for the daugher I have and the daughter I will have, I’d feel very alone.