I've skipped the gym every morning this week. Mostly because I've had meetings. But also because I just can't become known as the girl who shits in the locker room toilet every morning. I mean, come on. The people at Barnes & Noble already think I'm some kind of public restroom freak.
But this morning? Well, it's Friday. And I'm freaking cranky! And I had a plan.
I was going to drop the kids off at school. Come home and practice some self-directed stress relief. Take a desperately needed shower. And go back to fucking bed.
Who plans masturbation into their day?
But my plans were shot to hell when I heard the lawn guys' mowers in the neighborhood. Friday is lawn mowing day. You know I can't masturbate when the lawn guys are around.
In an attempt to circumvent an interruption, I did what I always do. I hung their check on my front door. I even made sure to check the amount to make sure I was paying them for last week too.
Only to have the head lawn guy knock on my door to let me know that they weren't going to do my lawn today.
Great. Thanks.
Now my mojo is all shot to hell.
I might as well go to the gym now. Or to bed. Yeah. Bed sounds really good.
And if I stress and crank at the people I love today, they can blame the lawn guys. And my fucking $30 credit.
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