Happiness Is Not A Warm Teenager

I would like to draw everyone's attention to this article in the New York Times, which discusses happiness levels in the general US population. My favorite line therein is "People who live with teenagers are the unhappiest of all."

Thank you. I'd suspected as much, but it feels good to have some official statistics to back me up. Now excuse me while I go take another Valium.

I've sorted out all the Christmas presents I scooped up at Michael's, just to make sure I hadn't made a mistake; but, no, I had just the right number for each kid. I thought I was spending an average of 15 dollars on each kid, but it looks to be closer to 25 dollars a person when all is said and done. Which is way too high, but the hell with it. Call me a spendthrift.

Larry is offering to take me out tonight, which is nice considering I've been spending all his money. Meaning, I had to take Anna to Kohl's again today. She was fairly exuding tolerance, but you could tell she was thinking, "If only I could drive myself, I could dump this stupid old lady."

Of course, if I could manage to get a real job that pays real money, we could afford to hire someone else to do all the stuff I've been doing around here for free, like chauffering a teenage girl with a lousy attitude to the clothing stores. Then again, with a real job, I might have to deal with super-annoying people all day who aren't even related to me, and that might put me over the edge. So I'll stick with being a kept woman for now, thanks.

My boss wants the computer. And I need to go to bed in order to get up on time to go for the walk my fiendish neighbor insists on dragging me on. And I'm too tired to fix that last sentence. Good night!