Today's Word

Should likely be PMS. But isn't.

I would like to point out, I am generally speaking a normal, sane person. I truly do strive to treat people with kindness and respect. I'm not given to hysterics. I almost never use rude words when talking to people. I can't think of the last time I really lost my temper and shouted. (Please, someone from real life interject and tell the lovely people in my blog I'm reasonable and sane, much of the time)

All of which is to say, this morning was an aberration, and not my most shining hour.

I'm not proud of this morning.

As you may recall, I went to bed with a fair bit of dread. I awoke, again, to the dulcet tones of heavy equipment, and stopped trying to fall back asleep because the sounds were right outside my window. And I got out of bed (dragging) and looked out the window. Surprised by fog, was I.

Except, that when I went to let the dogs outside 5 minutes later, I was coughing and choking. That wasn't fog preventing me from seeing across the school yard, that was dust. And my windows were open. I did run around shutting them, but too late. You can write your name on my kitchen floor.

at 7:15 or so, my car was in front of my house, and the equipment was moving around, making one hell of a mess.

at 8:15 I went down my front porch stairs, and my car was gone.


yes, that's right. In the space of an hour, it was gone.

My road was gone too. Again. 3 foot hole where my road was.

How in the world could someone steal my car with all these people in neon green jump suits around? How, I ask you?

I phoned around, a tremble in my voice.

I did locate my car.

An hour later.

Towed out of the way.

Towed around the corner.

Except not around the corner, because that's ripped up too. Around 3 corners. Located, covered in dust. Just like my floor, except worse.

And so, the horrible, nasty things I might have called the construction guy?

Totally brought on by still not having a road. Or a car. Or anyone to turn to, as I try and figure out when I might have a road again. . .

And I really didn't mean the things I said about his intellect, or his character, or his ability to function in the world?

I really didn't mean them.

I meant every word I said about his organizational ability. Every. Last. Word.

And I don't give a darn what he told his co-workers, it had nothing to do with PMS.

Everything to do with being fed up.