It's been a while since I stressed how much I detest Dipshit...

The hate only grows. Can you imagine? It's true, though. Exponentially by the day. Make that hour. We're both home now on a Thursday afternoon. He, naturally, is "working from home" before ridding me of his presence for another long weekend at the shore. For great relief, I must first suffer. So his infuriating voice has often been on the phone. When not, he's been talking to himself as he sits at his laptop. Oh, and for icing on the cake, I must, naturally, endure a static-filled AM radio blaring from his open-door bedroom. Despite ALL my words in this blog, NOTHING can properly express how much I hate the fact that he is in my life. Every minute I'm around him is pure torture. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm either gonna start sobbing, go for a walk, or smash his radio to pieces. I wonder which would be best for my mental health?