So...Tired.

So very, very tired.

I can't rest. My home just isn't very restful. It's a disaster, and covered in cat hair, cat litter, cat wee and -- as I discovered on my way out of the shower -- cat poop. It smells. There's laundry everywhere. The dust is horrendous. It makes me cry.

I would love to clean, but A: cleaning with a toddler around is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos, it doesn't work and your mom always catches you anyway (okay, maybe not the last bit) and B: I have no energy, all I want to do is sleep.

I want my US home back, preferably with the ability to afford a maid every two weeks like we had then.

Is it any wonder I can't relax?

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About this blog

The Stoatette, wife of the man known only as The Foxy Stoat, has embarked upon a strange journey during which she has to conquer her fears of pain, loss, heartbreak, and needles.