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I *mean* to tidy up _ do last night's dishes, fold the clothes, put some washing on _ when I get home, but I get there, and I feel like sleeping... Then the landlords' kids upstairs run back and forward, stomping even, thumping, like fucking crazy ADHD kids or summat, and it's worsened by having to hear their mother yell at them, and the kids yell at each other, and I fucking can't stand the fucking noise! I sit at the computer instead, with headphones on, listening to music to drown out the upstairs noise.
I worry that we shouldn't have moved into that place. It's only been three weeks and I want to move. Fuck. We can't afford it.
No. More. Sugar. I think I'm a prime candidate for diabetes.
AND I feel like falling asleep at my desk at work right... this .. min.... zzzzzzz
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