That's it, week. It was a good haul.
But in the end? You whupped my behind.
So now, I'm crying out like a 5th grader playing thumb war. Mercy! Mercy!
Please let me go home, put on my pjs and do nothing.
I've squashed all you've tossed my way. I've handled stressed-out people and refrained from biting off their heads back. I've been a good girl and gotten all my jobs taken care of, on time, and without errors.
So now you need to go. You've been conquered.
And when you return next week, please be better behaved. This week was a doozy and totally uncalled for.