I managed to make through most of the bitch boxes today. There were no crying jags, but I still found myself shaking. I think it is the pure venomous unadulterated hatred welling up inside of me. Today's find: they packed my pile of paper recycles. When we moved to stepford Evan was only three months old. We hired people to pack us, which was much simpler then, we lived in a not quite 900 square foot apartment. They packed Evan's dirty diaper off of the changing table. I know who the bitches trained with.
Tomorrow is it for me. Tick tick tick, time is up. Friday is D day. My plan is to do an hour in the AM, hit the posh club HARD, clean up, and then frantically clean for another 3 or so hours before picking up Josh. Then there is some after school stuff, haircut, etc.. Dinner will be strictly order out and then what ever light cleaning I have the energy for in the evening.
Where ever we end up in new town better work for me because I never want to go through this again.