The kid's been screaming at me for over three hours. We've rocked, we've crooned along with Sinatra, he's sucked the tits dry. That damn storm went through last night, ripped up the town, and he hasn't been sane since. And I've never been sane, so it's a double suck. Lunch was summarily refused by his highness. The Simpsons was too. I so hate my husband right now, with his full nights of sleep and job to escape to during the day. Feck.
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