While trying to make zucchini muffins (well, I opted for big muffin singular, as you can see in the picture) from Sheryl's new cookbook to bring her when I see her today, I curse loudly twice at my daughter (one is something like, "I don't fucking care!") to the point where daughter leashes dog and takes him into her bedroom to protect him from me.
My life, as usual, feels unmanageable but I have no substance, other than ones my body produces on its own, to blame it on. Sheryl knows me and me daughter and will understand. But about me: Help!