Nature of a Beast
As I read recently, I'm having a black day. The weather is overcast and it's chilly, but that's not what I'm talking about.
Read on if you're hoping to get depressed... Blame it on hormones, whatever you want, but I'm not a nice person today. I hope it's only today. Afterall, the pileup of burnt sacrifices is getting scarily higher.
You name it, I'll get ticked off at it. You want to be my 11-yr-old daughter and whine about what you're gonna get fed for dinner? Go ahead, ask me to cook. You can ask me to take you shopping for dress-up stuff and then play on exercise equipment at the store instead of helping. Tease me about giving you apple cider instead of the "good" juice. Call me mean/evil/dense/blind for posting my opinion of a crappy SV episode, even when it's the only show I LOVE right now. Push me into announcing to everyone, verbally, about evil in my neighborhood and what said evil did to me, afterall, they ought to know, for their own safety. Don't wash your hair for 3 days and then stomp your foot when I tell you it's bathtime.
It can't be hormones, the timing is off, unless hormonal releases can be delayed because of stress. Yeah, you could call it stress. I'd call it worse than that, but hey, I'd have to spell it all out and that would be saying too much. Afterall, this "journal" is live, or public.
So, what am I trying to get across here? I don't know. I'm mad. A mad cow. Unexplicable rage is possible. Breathing is difficult through this tight chest. I know. Even though I shampoo my hair daily, I'm stomping my foot and growling out loud. Yeah, that ought to do me some good.
And you can comment if you wish. I won't bite.