Blargh

I'm annoyed today.  More to the point, I've been annoyed for at least a week.  Seems the old Whore Moans decided to arrive quite a bit earlier than FLOrence Henderson.  At least, I'm assuming that's what is causing this bug up my ass.  I'm touchy.  I'm over-sensitive.  I'm taking shit personally/seriously that really shouldn't merit that much time or attention.  Poor Chebbar catches the brunt of it, even when/if it's not directed at him (likely because I feel safe in doing so: I know he's still gonna love me after I've completed my raging bitch moment).  Add to that the fact that I didn't sleep well last night (still awake at 2:15 am, then again at 4:30, 5:30, and finally up at 6:15), and I'm just a lovely little time bomb waiting to explode.  The poor bugger is probably GLAD he's working nights this week...  *cackles*

I wanted to write today.  There is a friend issue that has been burbling just under the surface since last weekend (I believe this was the first sign of my hormonal insanity), but I should wait until I'm a little more sane and rational to mull it over properly.  I thought I might write the next edition of The Story, but I honestly don't have the focus OR energy.  I'm all over the place.  My mind is going a million miles a minute, but isn't focusing on any one thing for more than 3.7 seconds.  I would like to sleep; to veg out in front of the TV; to work out; to binge on junk food (even while I'm feeling horribly, horribly bloated); to maybe have a good cry.  I even called my mommy to whine, but she wasn't home.  So, I figured I'd bring it to the internet and let you poor people deal with me.  *evil grin*

I'm all worked up over our stupid deck AGAIN (more about that when I can think straight).  I made brownies.  Twice.  Both times?  FAIL.  I think Ghirardelli's "new & improved" formula lost something in translation because both times they turned out damn near soupy in the center (tried the first batch in the Pyrex, then switched to a metal non-stick pan).  There is an ankle-biting wiener dog running around here right now and he's pissing me off.  You know, I'm not afraid of large dogs (unless they're barking and gnashing their teeth in my general direction while the spittle flies and their eyes roll back into their heads), but little, yappy, psychotic ankle-biters make me nervous.  I want to move.  I want to sell the apartment and buy a house.  I know we *reaaaaaaally* need to wait until we get our debt taken care of and that we wouldn't get as much as possible in this market and that we likely will need to put a little work into the place before putting it on the market, but SO many people around me are looking or buying or moving, and I've been bitten by the real estate bug.  That being said, the idea of selling scares the living daylights out of me because I have no idea what all is involved.  And seriously?  The memory of the packing and the moving and the unpacking?  Well, that right there is almost enough to make me stay put for the rest of my natural life.  Oh, and all of a sudden?  Fresh pineapple seems to making my tongue numb (I think it's an allergic reaction to an enzyme or something?).  Again, B.L.A.R.G.H.

But you know what?  All I've been able to think about today -- well, it keeps popping back into my head, as if to remind me that life is pretty damned good, missy -- is this one little thing Chebbar does for me: before turning the TV off at night, he switches it to the weather channel for me because he knows it's what I watch when I get up in the morning.  I don't even do that for me!  <3  And even though it's not really helping in the moment, knowing all this mood-swingy BS is hormonal and temporary makes me feel a teeny, tiny bit better.  And there are chocolate chip cookies upstairs. 

See?  Told you I'm all over the damned place.  ;)