In two hours, my entire family will be in my house to celebrate my mother’s sixtieth birthday. I am sore. I am wet. I am tired. I am sad. It is raining. My roof is seriously leaking. There are several new tiles out of the ceiling. My house is not clean. My laundry is not done. My mother fucking bed isn’t even made yet.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I love my mother so much I’d cancel all this, crawl into bed, and hide.