Dear Diary. Another waste of a day. I spent the day doing menial household chores, taking care of 0-year-old, and playing with 4-year-old. I sometimes wonder if Girlfriend even knows I'm trying to run an international exam practice empire. Because if she did, she'd surely allow me more time to work, and perhaps even selflessly volunteer to take over all parenting and household duties. Only then would I have the time to work on my business and become a millionaire, so we could finally break free of this drudgery and live out lives of megarich celebs instead.

I often find myself hanging out wet laundry to dry, and thinking, "Can't some other bastard do this?" Surely I could hire some woman from a poor South American country to do all the chores for me. I'd happily pay her up to $1 an hour (sounds like a pittance but it's actually a fortune in her own country) to wash my soiled underpants and dirty socks. So what if she can't speak English? You don't need English to mop the floor.

Now I think about it, we do already hire a cleaner to come round once a week to clean the apartment. But that doesn't go far enough - I don't just want her to clean the floor for me, I want her to cook my meals too, and collect my parcels from the post office, and cut my toenails, and massage my feet when I feel tired. Is that so much to ask?

Today was Saint George's Day, which is one of the most important days here in Catalonia. St. George's Day doesn't mean anything in the UK but it's a big deal here. On St. George's Day, you have to give a rose to your girlfriend and your girlfriend gives you a book. But today it rained all day, so we didn't even leave the house. Hahaha. Fuck Saint George and fuck his stupid day.

Today, at dinnertime, I had to carry a steaming bowl of soup to the table. On the way, I had to pass 4-year-old and 0-year-old, who were sitting in their chairs. The bowl of soup was hot in my hands. 4-year-old saw me coming and, of course, tried to grab me as I walked past. If I'd been careless, the hot soup would have spilt all over 0-year-old, causing first-degree burns. But I'd already anticipated 4-year-old's move and swiftly moved out of the way. I have finely-honed parent reflexes, like a ninja, from years of dealing with 4-year-old and avoiding treading on lego bricks and other toys.

At the dinner table, 4-year-old and I had this conversation:

4-year-old: "Daddy?"

Me: "Yes?"

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

Me: "Yes, I'm here"

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

Me: "That's my name - Daddy. Daddy Jones."

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

Me: "Uh-huh?"

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

Me: "I'm listening"

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

Me: "What is it?"

4-year-old:"Daddy?"

*Repeat six or seven more times*

4-year-old: "Daddy, today I did a really big wee but I did a really little poo"