I'm sick of working on the house. Nothing gets done and there's way too much to do. If I had some sort of nesting instinct I'm sure this would all make me as happy as a clam, but I don't. Really I just want to sleep. All the time. The bad part is that it won't even all be over by Tuesday because we are having to hurry and do a really bad job on things. And then there will be a baby and I won't get to sleep some more. Poor me.
Now you know.
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