A rough night

You know it has been a rough night when sometime late in the afternoon I emerge from the house clad in baggy pyjama pants with stained white undershirt partially on, completely unshaven, crazed look in my eyes as I clutch an empty baby bottle. Usually dog is in tow to let her out of the house to have a merciful pee in the front yard. While the door is open you can hear the wails of anguish of what appears to be a milk starved infant. Yep, it was a rough night.

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