Preaching to myself

Fair warning: This post may find me using words not fit for polite company.

I truly believe that anger will get you nowhere. Anger closes the door to a happy life. Anger makes it difficult to get along with others. I remind myself constantly that getting angry at the behavior of others doesn't accomplish a damn thing. It just ruins my day. And life is too short for that.

BLAH. BLAH. FUCKING BLAH.

Well, today, I'm angry. I'm pissed. I'm full of vexation, animosity, indignation, fury, ire, rage, and resentment. I'm going to throw either a cat fit or a hissy fit. Thank you, thesaurus.

I got up today prepared for the normal course of cleaning. By normal, I mean the usual things one does to keep a neat and orderly home. Some laundry, dusting, sprucing of the bathroom and kitchen, sweep and mop the floors.

Instead, I've found myself (once again) cleaning up the messes left behind by others who live in this house. Messes that I shouldn't have to fucking deal with. Food messes. Drink messes. Dishes where they don't belong. Clothing everywhere. Garbage here, there, and everywhere. And why is it so flipping hard to refill the damn ice trays?

I haven't even started on what I wanted to accomplish today, except to start the laundry. And even to do that, I had to fold numerous loads left by someone else because they needed something washed, but can't possibly be troubled to fold a damn thing. No, instead they shovel it into baskets, stomp it down into a tightly woven mess of sweatshirt arms, blue jeans legs, and socks. Which is, of course, the perfect cat bed and now should really be rewashed because it's full of hair. Tough shit, y'all, you're getting hairy clothes in your piles.

I'm pissed so my stress is up, adrenalin is flooding my system. My normal case of the shakes has turned into my own awkward version of the Harlem Shake. Which I fail to see the humor in, but that's another post entirely.

You know the phrase seeing red? That's me right now. I can't even stand my own level of anger right now, that's how bad it is. I want to throw things, break things, throttle the people that do this. But that would just make MORE of a mess to clean up.

I'm going to go clean and continue preaching to myself. Maybe after a good long lecture, I'll calm down. I will say, it's a damn good thing that no one else is home. I'd either be headed to jail or the mental ward.

There are no words to describe this day

I just want to curl up in a fetal position and cry my eyes out.

Twice I have typed out a rather long entry. The first was really nasty, so I tried to tone it down. The second started out fine and crumbled from there. It's just not going to be productive to go through this day again, step by miserable step.

Suffice it to say, I am surrounded by penises. Which prevents the brain from working sometimes. Have an issue with a man? Blame it on the penis. It applies to all males 10 and up.

I've had enough, and I'm not done with this day yet. I should be doing homework. I have 6 very painful and rather long accounting problems to do, and I haven't read the two chapters I need to. I have roughly 5 ginormous loads of laundry to do (go do your homework, we'll take care of the wash) and the machines are idle. At this rate, I'll be going commando in more ways than one tomorrow. They melted my iced tea container. And someone left a puddle in front of the commode. I don't have toddlers in the house anymore!

So now I'm upstairs trying to concentrate on homework, and obviously not succeeding because I'm writing this instead. I have a pounding headache. And I really just want to sleep. But now I'm too wired up for that.

WTF was I thinking when I decided to go back to school? How did I think I could really hold it all together? Oh, that's right. I didn't want to be stuck in a dead end job forever. Now I'll get to move on to a great paying job and put half my income toward school debt for the next 10 years.

And there's not a drop of tequila in the house...

Just one of my peeves

One quick way to set my teeth on edge... Ask the following question, or one of its variations:

1. Are you mad at me?

1a. Are you a little crabby?

1b. Are you hungry? (Because, well, I get really bitchy if I'm too hungry. The whole low blood sugar thing.)

These are especially prone to piss me off when asked within 10 minutes of you gracing my presence.

See, the thing is, I'm fairly easy to read most of the time. If there's a chance I'm mad about something, people are going to know. I'm either yelling about it, getting ready to yell about it, giving you the stone face, pausing to count to ten, or I turn and walk away. My anger is a very apparent emotion; I guess I'm not grown up enough to hide it quite yet. Sad, but true. However sad, it usually means there is absolutely no need to question my feelings. You don't have to ask and get some bitchy answer, and I don't have to try to fake it. It's just easier on everyone all around.