Hmmmm, life as I know it

I have been a not-so-happy camper lately. Life seems to have lost it's luster, know what I mean? Maybe I just need to have sex with Jason, but being a woman, I have to believe that not all my problems will be solved by sex, so maybe sex and some exercise. I used to live through exercise. Everyday would find me in the gym. Now, it's been months since I've seen the inside of a gym. I find this troubling. I get winded by running up a flight of stairs, this never happened before. The only problem is time. I need more time. If I could stop sleeping, that would be great. Or sleep like 1 hour or something. Sorry about those mammoth posts lately, my mind just kind of ran away, you know? Oh, right. Remember how I hate my mom? Well, I still do. She was trying to be all nice to me this morning, asking if I wanted her to tie the sleeves on my shirt, etc. But then she showed her true colors. Always does. Martin was extra clingy, no wonder that, he woke up at 6am, usually he sleeps until 8am or better. SO I was trying to eat my toast (lets just say for the record that I usually don't even bother with breakfast anymore, because I just want to get out of the house ASAP, which I think is giving Martin a raw deal.), and he was crawling all over me. So I abandon the toast (not really hngry anyway) and go play with him on the floor. She is reading her accursed paper at the table, and she asks if she should play with him while I finish my breakfast. This is her MO. She makes herself an integral part of the household, like a leech, or a parasite. I refuse to let this happen. So, I said NO. Anyway, I go back to finish my cold, nasty toast and he starts up again, so she goes plays with him. I take my plate in the kitchen, then walk back into my throne-room to finish my make-up and she says "Oh Mommy, look at the tower I built" It just sets my teeth on edge. I have friggin eyes. I can SEE the tower. I am an OBSERVANT person, unlike others. Oh, I neglected to mention her nasty comment about how I was walking on my pants. Hello? I'm five foot, two inches. I told her there was nothing I could do about it until I put my shoes on. I hate her. Gsoh, that was nice. Just writing about it makes me feel better. Oh yeah, I hate my job, too. Thanks for reading!