Dear Universe, I Get It, XOXO, Me.

I'm struggling at work right now, trying to dig myself out of some holes I've gotten into while trying not to fall into upcoming holes in the process. Ah, the cycle of fun.

To try and catch up, I worked late, to see if I could somehow get ahead of the snowball for just a few minutes (I didn't). When I told C. this, he, with the best of intentions, read me the riot act, explaining on how I was missing out on time with Baby (I was) and that time with my family is more important than any job (it is). And that he was just trying to help.

I tried to calmly explain that while I appreciated his helpful intentions (I did), he was really frickin' stressing me out further (he was). But I would do my best to get home soonest.

Still all wound up, while I was driving home, I turned on a sappy, way-too-soft-rock evening radio show that I hate to admit that I like (but do), in the hopes that I might unwind.

The song that came on? Harry Chapin's "The Cat's in the Cradle."

Dear Universe:

I get it.

xoxo,
me.