I was wrong: full-time work B.L.O.W.S.

Because if I wasn't back to work full-time, I wouldn't have been stuck in the cluster-fumble that was traffic after work today.  If I wasn't working full-time, it wouldn't have taken me 1 hour and 35 minutes to travel 7.5 miles.  Quite literally, I could have walked home faster.

And if I wasn't back to work full-time and stuck in traffic on the way home, my dear husband wouldn't have had to rush out at the last minute to pick the kid up from daycare.  And if that didn't happen, there's no way Brian could have forgotten to check the kid out, left all the dirty diapers in Cayden's cubby and left the diaper bag hanging on Cayden's hook.  Heck, at least he remembered the kid and blue blankie.

And if I wasn't back to work full-time, my nervous-boweled boy wouldn't have resisted pooping in front of strangers again all day today, so that when I finally got home at seven-friggin-o'clock to spend one-half hour with the Chicken before bed, he wouldn't have released all his anxiety by SHITTING IN THE BATHTUB.

If I wasn't back to work full-time, I wouldn't have had to de-shat the tub.  Oh, wait, Brian had to do that, what when I curled my lip and dampened my eyes at first sight of the loaf in the water.

And if I wasn't back to work full-time I don't think I'd require the Canadian rye I'm preparing to slug, to soften the edges on the past two and a half hours.