I need to take lessons from Hobbes. It doesn't matter if I really just want to throw a big ole' pity party for one because I found out they're both prego. Pardon me while I mold and fester for the weekend. It's probably a good idea that Mr. D ran out the door at 11:45p with his tail between his legs a beer cooler under his arm, headed for the neighbors house and a drinking fit. Irregardless of the fact that all I wanted to do was punch him and call him bad words because I was feeling utterly abandoned, and he didn't have any answers. He couldn't. Irregardless of that, I'm not thinking logically. It's true, nothing good comes of me after 9 pm.
