I am feeling better today, though my poor intestinal track is tore up from the floor up.
I am avoiding my problems at work by not going, which I realize is a flawed plan because eventually I will run out of money, actually sooner rather than later, but I am tired of being hated for doing what I am told to do, and I am tired of He Who Shall Not Be Named flat out lying about what has gone on. (I don't care that you are a cokehead, honey, and I am not gonna tell anyone. You might want to wipe a little better when you come out of the restroom, though, and I don't mean your ass.)
Assuming my tore up intestinal track cooperates, I am going to get some good work done around the house.
Floppy Hair has managed to not steal anymore of his brother's baby dose Vicodin, a feat for which he assumes he should be praised. I am to the point of taking what I can get with that child.
The rain continues, and some giant douchebag to remain nameless left the door in his room open, and it made the whole house freezing, as well as likely ruining the carpet. Look, homeslice, I realize you are a sweaty bastard, but it's 40 effing degrees outside.
All in all, it's been a lazy day. Which I approve of.