A bulit in excuse

I have a built in excuse as to why I can’t do something I don’t want to do anyway or why my house isn’t clean. His name is Kyle. “Oh I’m so sorry I can’t come to your wine tasting and French movie showing but the baby is fussy.” “Please excuse the dishes in the sink, the baby had a bad day.” “Oh I’m sorry I’m still in my jammies but the baby was awake all afternoon.” It’s a little too easy to get used to being a slob.

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