You get to the point where you're very willing to point fingers at whose responsible for your deep, unsettling unhappiness.
is it the husband?
Is it the job?
Is it the lack of counter space?
Is it the look that one person gave me?
Is it the bad tasting wine?
The book I ruined by watching the movie?
Whose fault is it that I'm not where I rightfully should be?
Who the h does a women have to cuss out to get some happiness around here?
It sure as h is not the dog
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