Three More Days…Three More Days

Yesterday turned out to be kind of a clusterfuck. I had helped a friend out, which meant that I didn’t have as much time as I needed to get through my day. She bought me lunch, which was nice, but also something I wrangled myself up over. It was so nice to eat out and chat, but I really needed to be home managing some crap I had to do. It was also, save for a couple of breakfast muffins and a piece of candy she gave me, the only thing I ate all day.

I have a small sum in the bank from my last paycheck. I want to avoid using it until the Independence Day sales. I left the kids with breakfast muffins and homemade chicken soup, which they barely touched. By the time I got back, it was too late to start a homemade dinner (we had something going on last night) and one of the kids was teetering dangerously on the edge of a panic attack (related to the thing we had to do last night). I offered up more of the barely touched soup, which was left damned near untouched this time.

We ended up on fast food runs last night. I caved. I had so much shit to do and the chicken soup was my magically turn nothing into something feat for the day. So I spent the damn money. This was on top of gasoline and motor oil. That small sum I have been hoping to spend on groceries next week is whittling away at an all too rapid pace for my comfort.

Meanwhile, the ex wants something and so does an extended family member. Come on, July. Get here already.

I’ll catch everyone later. I’m about to try to pull another miracle meal out of my ass.

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