Pissy. Stay Outta My Way.

I am not in a good mood. I realize that being grumpy in light of crises around the world is selfish. I realize that I am capable of feeding and sheltering many Haitians at this moment, and I should be grateful for the bounty of my life. But I don't give a rat's. So there. I am petulant, I know. I also realize that, based on the calendar, this is probably PMS. That just makes me pissier.I am sick and tired of Simon's righteous smirk when he checks my planner and sees that he can attribute my mood to hormones instead of to the fact that he is a schoob.

The list:

1. I'm sick of being on this diet. I want to eat chocolate-swirl banana bread until I'm tired of eating it. I want a Scotch on the rocks after work. One more week until it's over. I weighed in this morning. So, in the first week, I went from 129 to 126. Week Two, I went from 126 to 123. Yay me! Today, I again weighed 126. Furthermore, I am tried of people telling me that I shouldn't be bummed out about it, cuz I'm already slim. These people have (thankfully) never grabbed a handful of my butt, lifted up and dropped it. The jiggling goes on for two solid minutes.

2. I am sick of being cold. I can feel the goose flesh on my shins fighting against the stretchy knit of my socks as I write this. I have boiled the electric kettle simply so I can sit here with it cuddled in my lap. My thighs are burning in fact, and my hair is damp with steam; but the rest of me is frozen. The thermostat in here reads 68. I am wearing three sweaters. I want summer.

3. I am sick of Simon. His holey socks; the way he always tucks in his shirts and buttons them way up; the way he informs me that the coupon I used at the supermarket didn't register on the receipt. Can I trade him in for a cyborg? More emotional range...

4. I am sick of queries. The minute I walk in, three voices go, "Mooooom?????" Actually, two voices go, "Mooooooom?" and the other one goes, "Kaaaaaaate?????"

5. I am sick of work. Why not just lay me down in the middle of the office floor and entomb me in a massive burial mound of paperwork? Get it set up and tell me there is a cask of Amontillado in there. Starved for alcohol, I crawl in, then you pull the tiny scrap that brings it all own on my head.

5. I am sick of being here instead of in Wisconsin with my parents.

6. On the other hand, I am sick of responsibility. I have come to the realization that while I am gone, there will be a birthday/slumber party for Sara to go to, a Girl Scout event, both children's school Valentine's parties, Nathan's birthday.... So I need to be ready to go with a cake and a present for Nate the day after I get home..a special meal for Valentine's Day the next day...Sara's birthday party the next weekend. WHY did I have my kids five days apart? And believe me, Si will be prostrate with exhaustion when I get home, owing to the rigor of keeping up with meals and homework. Cry me a river.

I'm going to take a hot shower and go to bed, where it's warm.