F-bomb day.

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Today was an f-bomb kind of day.

I really try hard not to curse any more. It’s hard, my husband hates it. It doesn’t fit in with our beliefs. It’s not something I want my son to hear. And yet, I can’t seem to stop. But I need to stop. It’s not how I want to be defined as, “the mom who drops the f-bomb all the time”. I want to be classy, not trashy. And yet my mouth resembles a trucker.

Today I dropped the f bomb when puppy (SURPRISE! we got a puppy) pooped in the house.  I dropped it when the puppy (His name is Gus) peed in the house. I dropped it when the puppy (he’s a boston terrier crossed with a beagle) tried to come into the sewing room (he’s not allowed in there, at all). I dropped it when my lunch got soggy. I dropped it in a sentence made completely out of it. Along the lines of effity eff eff eff. I dropped it like it was going out of style.

Why do I continue to use it? There are plenty of other words that are way more “wholesome”, that could be as completely satisfying as muttering it under my breath.

Maybe it was just that today was a rough day.

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