Crabby

I am so crabby.  I know, you look at me sitting here, all super beautiful and say “What could she possibly have to be crabby about?” and “Does she actually even get crabby?”.  I will admit, it is a rare thing.  Usually I am the essence of delightful.  Under normal conditions I am about as perfectly cheerful as Mary Poppins.  Every once in a while, though, everything seems to work against me and I get crabby.  I’m serious, EVERYTHING and EVERYONE seems to be working together to make me crabby.  I go from my normal happy, go lucky self to the big bad wolf.  It’s not my fault.  I’m serious.  It never is.  Everyone I know and everything I come in contact with seems to be conspiring against me.  I’m pretty sure they are all in communication.  I’ve been keeping track.  They all get super annoying every 28 days.  NO!  I do NOT think there is any significance to the timing.

Every 28 days I wake up and it has started already.  The Pastor is lying next to me being super irritating with his breathing. You know, the really abrasive kind of breathing.   Like he thinks he’s so cool breathing in and out with such perfect rhythm.  I’m sure you can all understand how annoying this can be.  Oh, he lies there all unconscious and innocent looking, but I KNOW he is just trying to irk me.

Then I get up and go downstairs for breakfast where the food all makes me crabby.  We usually have really good food in our house.  I’m kind of particular about it.  I’m pretty sure that every 28 days, like some kind of sick cycle, someone sneaks into my house and replaces all of the good food with really annoying food.  Oh, it all looks like the same food, but I will not be fooled.  Someone has replaced all of my yummy, happy making oranges with squirty, angry making oranges.  This is also the time that I realize that we have no GOOD food in our house.  There is all this healthy crap when all I really want is something sweet.  I mean salty.  I mean sweet…  Ugh!  And is it too much to ask to just have a case of Snickers bars around here?

The Pastor might just enter the room then and say something horrible like “Good morning” or “How’s my beautiful wife today?”.  Okay, it’s not what he says but how he says it.  Like he hasn’t been planning this crabby morning for the last 27 days.  I just glare at him.  Why is the man not throwing chocolate at me?  “What’s the matter?” he asks trying to sound all innocent and confused.  I clench my teeth and hiss “You were breathing again last night.”  Oh yes, I am on to him.

Then I have to deal with my children.  I will spend the ENTIRE day with these little monsters.  Now normally my kids are just about the most perfect human beings on the planet, but every month, like clockwork, they have a day where they are just out to make me angry.  They try so hard with lots of hugs and kisses and saying “I love you” in their high pitched little voices (when did their voices get so screechy?).  I do my best not to let them know they are getting to me, though.  I will not let them win.  I just sit and wish they were more like their friends.  Their friends all have NORMAL voices and houses 15 miles away.  Why can’t my kids be more like that?

Lots of other things conspire against me.  The dogs with their stupid waggy tails.  Must they be SO waggy?  Other drivers.  Am I the only person in the state who knows how to use a round about?  Shoppers.  Seriously, there should be a special lane for anyone using that many coupons.  Furniture.  It rearranges itself ever so slightly so that I am constantly banging my shin and stubbing my toe.  The weather.  Does it have to be so sunny and perfect all of the time?  Even my clothes secretly shrink themselves just enough to be uncomfortable every 28 days.

I think you’re starting to understand me.  And, I hope, sympathize a little.

I mean, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with me.  Right?  Ahem, I said “Right?”

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Thank you so much for taking the time for reading my blog.  It will make me ever so much less crabby if you share it with your friends!

 

Ps  No pastors, pets or innocent bystanders were harmed in the making of this blog.

 

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One thought on “Crabby

  1. Pingback: Parents | The Pastor's Snarky Wife

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