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I think Winifred is starting to rub off on me.

It’s a little scary, actually. As if dealing with Bunny’s ever developing neuroses in addition to her finely honed ones wasn’t bad enough, now I have to see them spewing forth from within my own psyche as well.

Everything I do from how I hang up the laundry (not color coordinated) to how I prepare Buddha’s baby food has been rather strictly predetermined.

So I think initially, these little time managing habits started as a way to circumvent her freakishly fastidious moods but now it’s like I have my very own set of bizarre and anal rules that I must live by.

This must stop.

I refuse to turn into her.
The only problem is I don’t know how.

Coming up with these little tricks to complete the tasks has been my coping mechanism for avoiding friction with Winifred and without them, well, I’m afraid of what could happen if I slipped and continually forgot to stuff the diaper covers.
But I’ve noticed myself becoming more and more preoccupied with getting things done at the right time, in the right order, that I’m continually having less and less time to actually spend playing with Buddha. There must be another way.

I’ll be damned if I let her screw with yet another aspect of my life.

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