I should probably have been born a Catholic.

Nah, screw that, I’m far too lethargic/apathetic to remember to pray all the time and go to church every week.

But I do have a guilt complex of which a Catholic would be proud.

I feel guilty about EVERYTHING.

You know when you eat a can of baked beans? If I leave even one bean in the can when I empty it into the saucepan (oh alright, microwave dish, I’m not shit-hot enough at being a wife and mother to use metal saucepans to heat things in. But I digress…) I feel actually properly guilty about leaving that one bean, alone. Alone and unable to fulfill its life purpose as a baked bean, which is to be eaten by my child.

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