Fuck it all Revisited

It’s that kind of night again, because it’s at the end of that kind of day.

Not sure what has been worse: cleaning urine; changing adult diapers; rushing home to get to the emergency; not getting to the gym (again); begging out of a key meeting at work; forgetting to set up a ride for a daughter; or just feeling like I am spinning my wheels.

Somewhere in there went the optimism I went into the day with, and now I am here with a mix of anger, contempt, self-pity and just plain tired.

Someone tonight told me I should look for the life lessons in all of this–and I truly don’t think I can any longer.  At this point, just getting through tomorrow is an accomplishment.

Yeah, it’s a fuck it all kind of night–again.

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