In all honesty, I am a very nice person. I help little old ladies cross the street and save cats from trees (the last one is a total lie. I am yet to see a cat stuck in a tree. But you get the point). Seriously though, I have lots of patience and I am very loving. Until now.
Oh my God-I think there is a demon possessing my body! My poor husband! Just yesterday we had a nice little snowstorm up here in the Northeast. For whatever reason, it was imperative for me to go to work yesterday in my lovely rental go-cart and so I began my trek with cleaning off the car. I am renting a Mazda 5 mom-mobile and it requires a lot of cleaning off. There was a snow brush next to the door and I brushed and scraped my car. My husband was home still waiting to hear if he had to go to work and instead of doing it for me or HELPING me… he watched from inside. My devil horns began to grow. “Whatever!” I mumbled and brushed off the rest of the car like a maniac.
I then proceeded to get in the car with the brush, clearly needing it for the inches of snow I would have to clear off after work, and began to back out of the driveway. My husband, seeing I was stealing the coveted snow brush, came out on the porch waving his arms and flapping around like there was a fire. I stopped, rolled down my window, and cry “WHAT!?” He yells back, “How am I supposed to clean my truck off?!” Seriously, dude? The four feet of windshield you have? How do you think I clean my car off? Right! With my hands!
I threw the car in park and rolled my window down further. I then threw the snow brush like a spear out the window at his truck, rolling my window back up, and backing out of the driveway. Then the thought came over me “Duh, you are going to need that, still!” and so I threw it in drive, went back into my driveway, hopped out of the car, and picked up the spear-snow brush, effectively stealing it back from him as he watched, jaw dropped, from the porch. Backed up again and sped off. Actually, I would have sped off if I wasn’t in a rental go-cart and just spun in place for a few moments like a cartoon character trying to take off running.
These types of outbursts and angry behavior are a common occurrence. I am now 10x more likely to become a crazy person and throw things, smash something, or kick something or someone. It is insanity!
I simply pinched my middle finger between the shelf and the wastebasket while sliding it back into the closet. Instead of the normal “ouch” and continue on my merry way, I let out a blood curdling “MOTHER FUCKER!!!” and then kicked the trashcan with all my might, continuing to curse the living daylights out of the thing. My husband just happened to be on the phone at the time and asked what was wrong… what happened… are you ok… Ok Mr. Million Questions!! I AM FINE! I HURT MY MOTHER FUCKING FINGER! THE GODDAMN FUCKING TRASHCAN FUCKING SMASHED MY FUCKING FINGER! NO I AM NOT OK! IT FUCKING HURTS GODDAMN IT!!
But it was oddly satisfying and slightly relieved the immense anger overpowering my every thought and move. Clearly, a simple “Ouch!” would have sufficed, but I just gotta go that extra mile.
Please, for the love of God, let this be a first trimester thing. Because stuff is going to get broken and people are going to get hurt. I feel like a werewolf trying not to turn into a werewolf during the full moon… it is almost impossible.
So, for now, I would like to request everyone stay away-far away-from me. And I would also like to issue a public apology for my absolutely insane antics that are making their way to the surface right now.