Chronicles of Madness

This is how my head works, every time I hear the word 'normal' I have a flashback to an acappella group play presented at my school when I was in the third grade. These acappella freaks gave us the dire warning that by the time we were grown music as we new it would be dead.

DEAD.

Long live the acappella, down with all the instruments, blah blah blah. There was a loud gasp and all of my fellow students stared at each other incredulously. If I knew then what I know now, I would have walked right up to one of those assholes and socked them in the mouth. Guess what acappella dork? It's twenty years later and we're STILL making fun of you.

Before they tried to shatter all of our dreams and hopes of New Kids on the Block still rocking it hard (or whatever) they sang a song called, "Am I Normal". It was basically about puberty, and now when I hear anyone going on an "oh woe is me" rant I tend to burst out in song. Of course they never know what the hell I'm talking about (seeing as how we were apparently the only school tortured with this crap. Yay for being high risk low income!), and I'm pretty much viewed as insane.

Which is okay. It makes me laugh and that's what counts.

But this week normal Terra has left the building. Yes, I am no longer the ray of sunshine you have come to know and love. You see, for the last three months I have been suffering from PMS HELL.

I NEVER GET FUCKING STUPID KICK IN THE FACE PMS. NEVER!!!

Gah. It makes me sooo pissy. Now I KNOW when I'm about to start. Why? Because I suddenly and inexplicably hate everyone more than normal. The wind rubbing across my skin pisses me off. And if you take offense to it? Well then. I'm A MONSTER! EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SHOOT MYSELF.

I'm so fucking dramatic I want to take a shovel to my own face.

On Saturday the Irishman and I woke up late. We were busy planning a beautiful easy relaxing day in San Francisco. He took off for breakfast, the dog and I puttered around the house while I turned on the shower. Which is when I got 'the call'.

I had apparently marked off a consultation appointment with a client for the WRONG FUCKING SATURDAY! Shit. I had two hours to make it there. And that wasn't a problem, except the Irishman got pissy and when I got back five hours later he decided to punish me by running errands, denying me the walk I had been pining for all day, and then we ended up late and unable to go to the comedy show we had tickets for.

I was so mad I decided to blame being late on myself. This is what you do when you know you're so pissy that you're going to go to prison for life if you lash out the way you really want to.

But what did the Irishman do? He just LET ME blame myself! WTF?!

So then I wanted to cry.

Then I decided it was all his fucking fault.

And then I went for a walk and when he followed me I blamed the whole thing on him.

He was like, "Wait. How in the fuck did this become my fault?"

And here's the thing, right now, even though I know that it was an accumulation of things that ended up with nothing going right, I am still completely irrationally pissed off about the whole fucking thing.

And I've been trying to drop it. For three days now. And actually, I might have been able to,except:

on Sunday while he went to work and I got ready to leave I cleaned up the house as a surprise. I made the bed, cleaned up the kitchen, straightened the living room, and the ASSHOLE HAS NEVER EVEN ACKNOWLEDGED IT OR SAID THANK YOU! Is that too much to fucking ask for? A simple thank you Terra, you are way to good for me and I don't fucking deserve you. Oh, and by the way, that argument on Saturday? Completely my fault. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking.

THEN (and only then) I could be magnanimous and say, Oh Irishman, don't worry. It was no one's fault really.

It's like he never even got the fucking manual.