Today I wanted to quit my job. I guess that happens to everyone, especially in moments of condescention and oozy child psychology. I wanted to tell those bitches to take their corporate sell-out excuse for social policy and cram it into their Vuitton purses and go blow an illiterate bank CEO.

Or something like that. But hey, that's why god invented wine.

The boy finally moved here, moved in, and promptly got a really good job. A job that would allow me to quit! I guess this is how babies are made.

I'm 31, and that's ok.