It is 8:30 am.

I am eating a cold chicken burrito from Chipotle.

In bed.

No beans. Extra rice. Extra guac.

It could be because I woke up starving and if I did not immediately eat something rightfuckingnow I would throw up right then and there in bed, and instead of bringing me crackers or toast like any sane person would do, my husband stumbled downstairs in his underwear and brought me the first shiny thing he found in the fridge.

Or maybe, the half asleep bumbling oaf act is really part of his super secret scheme to make it look like he just grabbed whatever he could, but really his plan was to feed me my burrito of weakness, thus confining me to the bathroom for the rest of the day so he wouldn’t have to look me in the eye after putting me through a night of sheer hell, rendering me incapable of attending my 7 am much anticipated Joe Biden rally today, because Mr. Worky the Late Shift got pulled over on his way home at 3am for “swerving out of sheer exhaustion,” only to find out that of the billions of tickets he gets every year (Hello, I have never had a speeding ticket or a cavity. Which makes me, by default, better than you), he apparently forgot to pay one that now snowballed in a suspended license, causing him to call me at 3am, begging me to wake up the two toddlers that finally went to sleep after screaming in molar teething terror for 1938475638 hours, so that I could come pick him up on the side of the highway, as he could not legally drive one more inch because Jesusfuckingchrist he is a criminal, a criminal who refused to put the cop on the phone so I could tell him just how much of a pain in the ass I think they both are for calling me at this hour, as both of them are clearly without soul because all I wanted to do was get more than 2 hours of sleep before heading out before sunrise to get prime seats near to Joey B and shout important things like Change, and Hope, O-ba-ma like they do on all the rallies I watch on CNN, and then I would get to meet Joe and he would see I am clearly the shiny voice of young(ish) America, and ask me to join them on the fun bus and probably get a free t shirt, and eat places for free, and kiss babies, and cut ribbons, and do all the fun things I was totally born to do. But, no. We didn’t get home until 6am. The boys just went to sleep and hour ago. No fun bus for me. Goodbye destiny.

The burrito is really good though.

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