I’m officially old. I can’t cut through Elder’s bs anymore.
There’s a lot to be done, and all I want to do is crawl into bed.
I did a lot of little things, and I expected the boys to do some too.
One did. One did not.
There may be nothing for me to do but let his inertia consume him.
He doesn’t want help; he doesn’t think he needs it.
He’s not in need of fixing, I’m told.
I don’t know what to do.
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