Me:
Hold on, guys. Let me put this pillow here.

Wyatt:
This couch cushion fort is awesome.

Me:
Wait. I'm not done.

Boone:
Look in here, bro. It's like a tunnel.

Wyatt:
Rad.

Me:
Guys, c'mon. Hey, that is not a load-bearing wall.

Wyatt:
Is this like a window?

Boone:
Maybe it's a door. Try to walk through it.

Wyatt:
Okay.

Me:
No, no. Fellas, look out. Great! You ruined it! I told you I wasn't finished. Next time just wait when I tell you to wait.

Boone:
Dude?

Me:
What?

Boone:
You're yelling at us over a couch fort.

Wyatt:
Yeah, dude. Seriously. You're not building bungalows in Haiti here.

Me:
Right. Sorry. I'm a little stressed out.

Boone:
What could you possibly be stressed about?

Me:
Really? Have you met you?

Boone:
Touché.

Me:
It's just... None of us have really gotten over the cold we had and our finances are stretched thin and the house is falling apart and Wyatt's throwing up all over the place—

Wyatt:
No, I'm... hrrrrughah...

Boone:
Oh, man. Are those kidney beans?

Me:
It just never stops. Sometimes, things get so overwhelming, it's like a crushing weight resting on—

Wyatt:
Blah, blah, blah. You sound like a Morrissey song.

Me:
This is punishment. I'm being punished for something. I know it.

Boone:
Your whining isn't going to get this couch fort built any faster.