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Fuck Politeness

This is a revolution, not a public relations movement

I’m so motherfucking tired right now: weeks of lack of sleep and fighting off viruses coming to a head.

Woken at 6:30 by mini FP blowing his nose loudly and freaking (like *really* freaking) out that his nostril was blocked even though it was empty: it happens kid.

Sorted him out and asked him to go back to sleep as I didn’t *really* need to be up til 8 and I need need NEED the sleep. TOLD him we didn’t need to get up til 8:00.

He woke me up at 7:30 to say ‘It’s 7:30’.

I may or may not have sworn.

I tried to be patient while getting him ready for school only to realise his bag was full of duck. Yes duck. You’re reading that correctly.

He had an excursion to Chinatown yesterday where they could buy lunch. So while everyone else ate lemon chicken, miniFP orders duck. Only to wig that it’s full of bones, and (he says) veins. (He’s got Asperger syndrome so once he freaks on that sort of stuff there’s no going back). So the teachers aide decided binning it would be a waste and she made him bring it home. Only he forgot. And the container broke. And the bag was full of hot sweaty roast duck.

If you’ve ever wondered what leftover duck in a school bag on a hot day after 18 hours smells like, it’s a bit like rancid meat with a hint of sick and base notes of wet laundry that’s been left in the machine three days.

I very nearly yacked. It was so atrocious that I physically could not bring myself to empty the bag and wash it, I mean I really *would* have hurled. Even now the memory of it is making me salivate in that special I’m-going-to-vomit way.

Happy Morning.

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