The heart wants what the heart wants.

My finale thoughts:

As a legitimately poor person, a tiny house is my fantasy because maybe someday I could afford one. I feel regular home ownership is unattainable.

Because my child will take one bite each of a dozen different foods that I will later find strewn about the house in places food has no business being. She has to ask just so I can keep track of the remains of whatever the previous snack was. Also, she’s six, so I expect (pray for) this to be a temporary thing.

I was about seven months pregnant. I went to the library on a Monday, only to find they were closed on Mondays. I yelled, “Fuck you, Library!” And then I kicked the door. Twice. I was so pissed, it wasn’t until a few days later that the ridiculousness of my tantrum really hit home.

On the article yesterday about the cashier grabbing the baby as the mom had a seizure, someone posted something about how the guy probably ran away because he gave her the drugs that made her OD. What? In the time it takes to post some BS that they pulled out their ass, they could have done a quick internet search and…

I don’t think I ever asked to use the bathroom in school any other time. As I said, I was really shy.

My third grade teacher told me I had to wait to wait to use the bathroom and I wet my pants- a huge puddle on my chair, the floor, soaked clothes. It was humiliating. I was already super shy. And I ended up missing a lot more of the school day than if I’d just gone to the bathroom.

There’s a show on Netflix called Lab Rats. It’s very Small Wondery.

The dildos make a great statement. Go fuck yourselves, Bundys!

So he doesn’t like the documentary that shows what an amoral, incompetent, sexually harassing douchebag he is? Shocking.