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at 2004-08-24 around 9:29 a.m.

Here is a letter to Tuesday: You suck ass. I hate you. You remind me how loooong a stupid work week is. Thanks a million, asshole.

Here is a letter to my underpants: I hate you too. Get out of my ass. What the hell is wrong with you?

Here is a letter to myself: Wake the fuck up. God.

So here I am at my desk on this stupid Tuesday. It�s all gray and humid outside, but in my office, it�s sub-freaking-zero and I�m wearing little flippy sandals and my toes are cold. I feel like a good wife today because I woke Nick up early and made him have sex with me. I haven�t done that since I think never, and he was happy, so I�ll get a nice day out of that. And of course, the sex. And I got the kids out of the house on time, and they hardly screamed at all in the car, and they only hit each other once or twice. It was a good morning, all in all.

Then I got HERE.

I hate here. I looked at the stuff on my desk and thought, okay, I�ll just tackle this all and get it all done today. Today is the day. I picked up the first thing, answered the question on it, and went to call the person who asked the question to explain it to them and they DIDN�T GET IT. At all. I am not a good explainer, this is why I am not a teacher. I wanted to beat her with the phone. It wasn�t a hard question, and looking in the file, she did the same thing, with a very slightly different situation, like two weeks ago. Why could she do it then and this time be completely flummoxed by a very simple thing? What the fuck is wrong with people? Some lady called me yesterday to tell me that my fax machine was busy. I told her yes, it�s a busy machine, and to keep trying. She called me back exactly two minutes later to tell me that it was still busy. I meant keep trying more than once, retard.

I also forgot to bring a lunch. That�s not so big a deal because I could go buy something, but I�m really trying to save money, and it blows my super-efficient supermomminess this morning. (We have all realized that calling myself �supermom� is total sarcasm, right? I�m a mess!) I also forgot to grab a safety pin for the small hole in the crotch of my pants. Luckily it�s very small, but I have a feeling I�m going to be looking at it all day and calling attention to it, because that�s the kind of person I am.

Ooh, I just got to talk to K. I haven�t actually spoken to her since she left. We email every day, but it was so fun to hear her voice! She said she heard some James Taylor on the radio and had to call me. We love James Taylor, because we are kind of nerds. You know. But she also said that she was over at her new house cleaning it before she moves into it, and it has HUGE cockroaches, the kind you can only find in the South. (I guess. I�ve never seen a real one, just rubber ones.) So they have to bomb the whole house before they move in. That sucks. I wouldn�t be able to live there. I hate bugs. I�d be thinking about it all the time, even if I never saw another one. Poor K.

I guess I have to go do some stupid work now. Some lady just called and told me to fax her something, but to make sure it came through the fax machine really big so she could fax it somewhere else. Here is a letter to that lady: Fuck off.

Bye!

Kids are:

Last person who pissed me off:

Heard in my house:

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