So last night wasn't a complete disaster. In fact, barring the fact that one of my babies wouldn't sleep, shut up, or eat, it was a fairly decent night, ending with me "cruising" at 80 mph all the way home.
I came in and bunny-slammed the Baby Sister, demanding that she forage the nearby fast-food places in our neighborhood to bring me back food... until we realized that no place was open today that wasn't a heathen institution for not shutting down for Easter.
As I attempted to get some sleep, I started gettings texts from a number I was hoping to forget by now. It was the Toy. asking, very subtley (which was a new thing for him) if I'd be up for playing.
Part of me laughed at the idiocy, having ranted about my very lack of a man/boy/clean hobo to have not-so-G-rated fun with to Bailey just hours before the Toy got in contact with me. And the other part was intrigued. Maybe this time I could handle it knowing he'd be back to his girl/wifey/main squeeze after taking on the side dish.
In the end it didn't matter since I was working tonight. So here I am, feeding babies and making my money while wondering if I should be upset at missing out on a good time or relieved over not getting heartbroken again.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
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