Saint Dirty Face

Sunday, you dirty thief.

You let me stay up too late, then made sure I woke up late. The house looks like a crime scene—dishes, clothes, chaos—because no one lifts a finger unless I bark orders. And when I bark? Oh, suddenly I’m the villain.

So here I am, rushing out the door for groceries, muttering at your smug face. And just behind you, I see Monday—grinning like a bastard, waiting to bite.

Stay Dirty. Stay Human.™