I am in a mood more foul than the smell of my kitchen garbage, that needs to be emptied and that I have been thus far too lazy to empty, (holy run-on sentence, batman) and I LITERALLY screamed at the top of my lungs at my dogs this morning for daring to get in my way.
I am in a mood today. A not-so-pretty mood. I was too sad/angry to cry, which for me is HUGE. I cry over everything. Instead, on my drive in to work this morning, I cranked the volume of my radio so loud that it punctured my ear drums, and I belted out some incredibly depressing Tool lyrics while pounding the steering wheel in time to the (music) my anger.
I AM SO IRRITABLE.
And then I read Kitty's blog post today. And smiled for the first time today (oh well, okay, maybe the second time. The first was one a coworker went to Starbucks for me and bought me my Pumpkin Spice Latte). No, I was not smiling at Kitty's misery. I was smiling at the movement she is starting...FUCK THIS FRIDAY. So in jumping onto her incredibly inviting bandwagon (filled with chocolate chip cookies, ice cream and misery) I'm going to vent and rant my rage this day until I've purged it all out and feel somewhat better:
- My grandmother's health is declining. Yes, on a good note, the cancer in her throat is gone (after the horrible, draining treatments) but now she seems to be on a downward spiral and I don't know how to react to that.
- My uncle's dog, Lady, had to be put to sleep yesterday (Kitty, I swear to God! I'm not just making this shit up!!!). My mom called me in tears to say that Lady, who is/was sixteen years old, was dying. My uncle had to make an appt. the next day to put poor Lady down, becuz she could no longer walk, could hardly breathe, and was losing control of herself all over my grandmother's kicthen floor. I remember my Uncle bringing home this excited, happy beautiful puppy when I was only fifteen years old. Rest in Peace, Lady Bug. (maybe THIS is what all those lady bugs were trying to tell me?)
- I am fucking broke. I was going to say broke this week, but that would be acting like I'm not broke on a regular basis. Which would be a downright lie. I thought I was getting paid this week...sadly, I was wrong, it's NEXT week. Lots of shit is due. THIS week.
- I hate my job. I cried in absolute frustration the other night on the way home, talked to myself like a crazy woman, asked myself, "Why???? When are you going to get off your ass and DO something about your life, April?"
- I just finished up another fucking period. My cycle has been crazy the past few months. First 24 days, then 30 days, then 27 days. I have no idea anymore when I ovulate. I have yet to buy the basal thermometer. I'm silently freaking out that becuz of Daryl's diabetes, it will be even harder to get pregnant.
- I'm starving. Daryl and I have been eating fabulously (i.e. healthy) since last Saturday. Am I happy about this? Yes. Am I hungry? Yes. My body is still adjusting to not stuffing my mouth at any whim that overtook me. Am I still fat after a week of awesome eating? Yes. Did I expect to have lost at the very least a pound this morning when I hopped on the scale? Yes. But did I? Hell, no. And I feel like a selfish bitch for complaining about when I'm doing this by choice, when poor Big D HAS no choice. I'm a horrible, evil wife for feeling this way and wanting a Snickers bar.
- My house is a total pigsty. I need to spend my entire weekend cleaning it. My entire weekend.
- I'm applying for a new job. This should be a good thing, right? Right?? I'm silently freaking out.
- Oh, and did I mention I'm fat???