I have identified a second trigger. Deviation. I need things to be fairly routine, I need to be warned when my delicate balance is about to be upset by a visit, and I need to be able to establish a cut off time for dish dwellers to disrupt my calm. When this balance is upset by deviation…Anxiety kicks in, along with indignation. Seriously, if someone tells you, repeatedly, DO NOT CALL AFTER 9 P.M. but keeps doing it…How do I not have the right to be pissed?

Three guesses who the culprit is and if you read regularly, you’ll only need one guess. R-sole. Yep. I was still trying, at 9:55 p.m. to get my kid to bed and she was having a warbler about scary stuff and not being able to sleep and she was thrashing and bawling and guilting me…and the phone rings, which just sets her off more. And it sets me off to have established a limit and have it ignored time after time. Who does this? Who thinks they are that fucking important? Right. Narcissists who are half drunk. I didn’t answer it. He’ll be throwing a tantrum, no doubt. Zero fucks are given.

Yet even with the zero fucks thing…I was awake until almost one a.m. after a straight hour of my kid screaming her head off thus I let her come to my bed. And between her fit and his call, I couldn’t get to sleep. My mind was spinning and I was just fucking pissed off. Even his wife remembers me telling him multiple times not to call after nine. He doesn’t get it. Being his ‘friend’ is too much fucking work. Jebus.

I had wicked dreams involving fancy hotels that wouldn’t let me and my friend beyond the door so we could go inside and do some sort of corporate espionage thing to get a bad guy (I have NO idea) so we were doing sexual favors for some guy who could get us inside and then there was this chapel with stained glass and pews and… WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. These weird dreams are really pissing me off.

Of course, with my current cramp-from-hell pms (some get a week of it, I get ten days, plus the actual three days of shark week lucky me), the backaches, and moodiness (GET NEAR ME I WILL STAB YOU WITH TEN SPORKS AND A BBQ SKEWER!!!!)…everything pisses me off. Which is weird because yesterday I was fairly serene. Horrormones are the gift that keep giving.

Today is grocery day. I am less than enthused. We are also in day six, consecutive, of sporadic rain showers, which means everything is a muddy mess. The break in temperature and humidity is welcome, though. The dish is NOT. It is a necessary evil but I’d just as soon yank my own fingernails with pliers. Grocery shopping, with spawn in tow, is as pleasant as a root canal.

Oh, my pissy self is back, thank god. All that serene sunshine spewing was killing me. Yes, I felt it, but it also felt like I was a seal balancing a beach ball on my nose, spewing rainbows and pissing puppies to please the “you’re too negative” idgets. I’m not negative. I’m a realist.

Now…more Grey’s Anatomy to bolster up my nerve before I face the dish. Ugh. I need a maid to do all this shit for me. But then I’d freak out because I don’t like other people touching my shit, I like my chaos. (Except for the floors and dusting, they could totally have at cleaning that shit.) My kid is already at fever pitch, my teeth gnashing is back, and my innards are being twisted and squeezed by evil oompa loompas…It’s gonna be a smashing day, folks.

Hopefully that doesn’t mean me smashing anyone with a nail spiked two by four coated in acid. Fun as that might be…Jail stripes are not a fashion statement I care to make.


  1. If nothing else you brighten my day. You are quite humorous. ❤

  2. I totally get the deviation. If I do it, that’s ok. When someone else does it, all hell breaks loose so fuck all that. Those damn oompa loompas…

  3. I think me hating people’s last-minuteness ties into this theme of deviation. Hate that junk, rrrrrrrrr.

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