What a weekend. And just FYI? I am PMSing violently. VIOLENTLY!!! Like, if someone were to piss me off right now I may or may not shank them in the liver right then and there. That’s how dire this situation is.
Irrepressible fury? Check.
Copious amounts of unsubstantiated tears? Check.
Headaches and fatigue? Check, check.
Undying appetite for and slight infatuation with the girl scout cookies we just bought Saturday night? You guessed it. CHECK.
PMS in all it’s glory.
Friday night was date night. Matthew and I went to our favorite restaurant where we wined and dined and had a delightful time; but the fun stopped there.
Next we went to the movies and saw Black Swan. Have any of you seen this? Lord have mercy. Here was my take on it, via Facebook:
The following words actually came out my husband’s mouth while walking out of the theater: “I’m not sure if I want to go get drunk or go get stoned or just blow my brains out.” And NO, he doesn’t REALLY do drugs or drink in excess, and he’s not actually suicidal. But you get the picture, right? That movie was d.i.s.t.u.r.b.i.n.g. I found it interesting the way that, when the credits came up and the lights turned on, everyone just sat there, as if their brains had been sucked right out through their eyeballs. People seemed confused and stunned… maybe damaged inside.
Wow. That’s all I can say. I’m sure it’ll win an Oscar, cause the weird ones always do.
Saturday I did about a month’s worth of housework in one day. It was epic, and I was angry the whole time. I vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed the floors, cleaned the closet, did mountains of laundry, and picked up two metric tons of poop from the backyard. Clearly my new year’s resolutions to stay on top of housework aren’t faring too well.
And Sunday morning. Sunday morning I went grocery shopping for the week. And once through and all rung up at the checkout counter, I was told by the cashier that a manager was needed for an override. Said manager arrived and rudely informed me that it’s illegal in Texas to buy alcohol before noon on Sundays, and then she dug around in my packages and took the wine away from me.
Oh, the rage that boiled up inside. It was 11:30, and I needed that wine for the beef stew I was making last night. I don’t really remember the exact words that flew out of my mouth, but I’m sure they weren’t pretty. Poor little cashier boy. He just had me on a bad day.
Here’s hoping for a better week. PMS be damned.
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