Control Your Anger Young Jedi…

I swear it is getting harder and harder to not to biotch-slap people. This morning Psycho-Biotch showed up nice and early and even accompanied me to work.

Psycho-Biotch is my personal version of Jenny McCarthy’s Psycho-Chick from her book, “Belly Laughs.” By the way, I burned through her book on Saturday afternoon and loved every page. I’m now mildly afraid of the surprises in the delivery room but, hey, at least I now know what may or may not pop up.

So as I was saying… Yes, Psycho-Biotch. I’m normally pretty flexible when it comes to routines. Yes, I’m totally a creature of habit but when things come up, I normally go with the flow. No biggie. Yeah, no one told Psycho-Biotch that. I normally take a shower, do my hair, eat breakfast then do my makeup. I do it this way, because I hate having to retouch my makeup after eating breakfast. This morning, however, my brother-in-law jumped into the shower as I was eating breakfast. Normally, he’s never up at this time. And so it’s never been an issue. But for some reason the fact that he dared go into the bathroom without consulting me first, burned me up. I know, I know. What the hell? It’s not like he’s a mind reader, nor did I put a sign up or anything like that. It was completely irrational. I understand this. But still, I was pissed! Then he took forever and I couldn’t get my makeup on by the time I had to leave for work. I was pissed. In fact, thinking about it now-- knowing full well the anger is irrational-- I’m still getting pissed. Ooh yeah, but that was only her entrance.

As I walked around getting my stuff together I then noticed the shoes in the entrance were out of order. Actually, no. Not out of order. They just weren't where they were supposed to be; on the rubber mat. In fact, the only shoes that were on the stupid mat were mine and half of one of Aaron’s shoes. This burned me the frick up. I got the mat so that when you come in, particularly on a rainy day, you can leave them on the thing, rather than track water, mud, etc. all over the apartment floor. Then I noticed dried mud on the area rug in the entrance. That did it. I went bonkers. I kicked a shoe halfway down the hallway and began raising hell about how neither one of them bothers to help keep the place clean and how I may as well just leave shoes strewn all over the ****ing place. Or perhaps I should just start carting in loads of mud since they liked living in a ****ing sty. Aaron was so confused.

He his attempt to calm me down was giving me a hug and kisses. The problem is my nose has been replaced with that of a bloodhound. So him trying to kiss me while rocking the morning breath was not only displeasing me but displeasing the wee one and it was starting to let me know it. I politely tried to break away, which in turn, made him try even harder. This was not good.

I tried to sound as calm as possible (ha!) and tell him that as much as I appreciated the attempt at making me happy, his breath was having the opposite effect and that I was angry about having to go to work without makeup and seeing the place get dirty after being clean for only one day. He apologized for the breath and told me I still “look beautiful.” I called him a wonderful liar but that I appreciated his effort.

I went to work, still kind of fuming. What greeted me at work was not a pretty sight. I will once again spare you the gory details but I was in a meeting and left with nail imprints on the bottom of both my palms. I also felt the powerful urge to throw my computer through a wall when I got an e-mail that just pissed me the hell off. Yeah. Psycho-Biotch is kind of hard to rein in, but at least the bouts of queasiness from time to time, seem to be keeping her at bay a touch. Basically, if I move too quickly, the wee one will become even more agitated and make me boot. I nor Psycho-Biotch want that.