One day, probably a Tuesday, I woke up in a foul mood. I have no idea why. I contemplated my mood briefly and found no reason for it.
Of course, once you’re already in a bad mood, it super easy to get pissy about most anything.
“Sadie! OFF!” Moo shouted so she could take her place. Moo always wants to talk in the mornings, but on that day, she came to snuggle, quietly, sweetly. This made both of us even more reluctant to leave the bed.
I made coffee and I paused to consider my gratitude for coffee.
I turned to my laundry.
I had grocery bags and a rug in the wash.
When I opened the dryer, the darks were still there.
“Fuck.this.shit,” I said to no one, because my bed wasn’t made and I didn’t want to make the bed and I didn’t want to fold and hang the darks. I slammed the laundry door.
I began my stretching. Then I sorta sprawled on the floor, staring at one of our five million nipple-shaped lights. I tried to blame my mood on my hatred of the nipple light, and then on the lady who had them installed, but it didn’t work. I flopped over and noticed two dust bunnies under the sofa table and I inchwormed my way over to those and clutched them in my angry lil hand, making a mental note not to bonk my head on the chair on the way back up, but of course, I bonked my head on the chair on my way back up.
I decided that was the most exercise I was gonna do and thought about a shower. I hate washing my hair. It takes about 30 hours for my hair to calm down, so I really try to maximize the benefits of already calm hair before starting all over again.
With smooth and straightened hair and still a bad disposition, I attempted to word. Some post that I will one day edit and publish. That’s the trick to keeping your public neuroses to a minimum you know. Write about it while you feel it, and then edit and publish it another day.
I made the bed, tackled that laundry, and went to work.
Sometimes work is exactly the sorta thing one needs. At work, I can’t sit around and contemplate the stuff that sticks in my craw, because you know, work.
Which is why, I must say, I am not a good mother at work. I mean, yes, while I carefully nibble grapes alone in my office, I think about how I hope they’re not eating grapes, because they’re probably leaning over the counter, tossing grapes into their mouths while they laugh, and they’ll probably choke and die, but I also don’t want to respond to texts about how there are only three cookies left and they don’t know what to do, when really, I am fully aware they have the math aptitude to solve that problem.
So yesterday, I bout lost my mind, because the boy one did not listen to us last week and then wanted me to provide a rescue route today, and as I responded to his texts, I thought i will calm down, i will soon be mad only at the situation and not at the person, but that didn’t actually happen. Like when you stub your toe and you wait for the pain to subside, but instead it increases and begins to bleed? As time passed, I grew downright hostile with the amount of reasons the whole thing pissed me off.
Getting disconnected from an important call at work prolly did not help.
Drivin in the dark definitely did not help.
Shoppin for Thursday’s dinner at two different stores prolly did not help.
Coming home to discover I’m out of kosher salt definitely did not help.
Tryin to yank the frozen neck out of my supposedly fresh turkey prolly did not help.
To put the level of my anger into perspective, you should know that The Mister was calm and dedicated to handling the matter while I whisper-screamed at my dog about the insanity of it all. I’ll probably publish that in five years, when we can all laugh about it. I think it will be titled, “Grow the fuck up!” which is funny, because I am still growing the fuck up.
“How did you do that without screaming, WE TOLD YOU SO?”
Ugh. Next time.
Even though I had trouble getting out of bed before noon, I feel like this second Tuesday will be a better one than most. After all, my hair is already calm, the cookie jar is full, and well, I married the right man.