our house is broken. it sucks, i've lost the will to be amusing. i'll tell you the story of woe you'll probably find it funny. you sadistic bastards.

picture this, i have settled my darling (evil) sons into bed for their morning nap. i am washed and dressed and have had a ciggie, everything is going swimmingly. I settled myself down on the sofa to read my book for a while as the in-laws were coming over and i needed a bit of 'me time' to set me off for the day. i hear a creek and a smash. everything sort of danger runs through my head as i race up the stair yelling mummy is coming, i walk into my babies room and see that a load of fucking plaster had fallen off the celling onto not only various bits of furniture but also into my baby Jack's cot. wrenching him out of the bed into my arms i symultaniously check him for injuries whilst comforting both crying babies. i want to kill everything and anything. however i decide that the most important thing to do is clean. so i wobble downstairs and grab the hoover and i clean until i am calm.

nothing about this post is funny but i really dont give a fuck.

i haven't cleaned my teeth yet.

laters