( IOAN & ARCHIE )

Soooooo, looks like tomorrow is going to be a beautiful day for a birthday.

( IOAN & ARCHIE )

So, the Valentine decorations get taken down, and the St. Patty's shamrocks get thrown right up---I've even seen some Easter baskets floating around. Can't we enjoy one holiday before shoving the next down our throat?

( PRIVATE )

Is there going to be a Halloween costume contest, again? Or is there some tiny rule embedded in the latest Acts that prohibit some fun around this hell hole- place?

1) Everyone please be aware that it's Eliza's birthday tomorrow, because she won't mention it and I need you to remind her that she's getting old.

2) Archie. You are old. Pub?

ELIZA COME TAKE THIS CHILD I CANNOT HANDLE ANOTHER WEEK OUT OF WORK

I need to work. I need to smell ink and parchment. I need to have paper airplanes poking me in the side of the head as I take too long debating on whether or not I should take the lift or the stairs. I need to not have to change diapers be bored senseless in three hour long meetings about the weight an Eagle Owl should carry.

It has been a week. One week. Seven days. Eliza, come and take this kid-- I am so close to losing my mind that I decided to buy this journal in hopes that someone can keep me sane. I need to be sane.