This morning at 5:30 (that's a.m. as in awfully morning, as in atrocious moment) my neighbors dogs freaked out and started barking. They barked, on and off, mostly on, for two hours. Yesterday they did the exact same thing but worse: they howled. I have a headache and I am just not, somehow, a happy camper. It's almost noon, I'm sitting here in my pajamas, and I am furiously cranky; two nights of interrupted sleep do that to me. It's a good thing I'm not planning on having more kids because I am clearly no longer capable of being up on and off all night. And the kids I do have are driving me nuts anyway, to say nothing of the pets.
That would be because, and here comes the TMI, people, this is the time of the month when I dearly wish nothing more than to take a couple of samurai swords (that shoot laser beams too, and also some grenades, and a rocket launcher maybe, and Thor's hammer, dammit, give me that goddamn hammer you measly little thunder god, I need it today) and lay waste to all around me. Everything is annoying. Every. Fucking. Thing. I am angry with the world; also, I'm hungry and my head hurts and I weigh 3000 pounds. This makes me, you guessed it, angry. And the house is trashed again, and I need to take down the Christmas tree and so on, and also M is going back to school on Sunday, which always makes me a little sad.
Basically, I have post traumatic holiday disorder and pre menstrual syndrome, and you would think that that would put me in a state of now-ness only to be envied by Baba Ram Dass or, indeed, any yogi worth his salt, but alas, instead it has utterly paralyzed me until, like the Angriest Dog in the World I can't do anything useful; I can only sit here and glower. Happy bloody friday, everyone. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.