I pity men, I really do. Specifically heterosexual men in a relationship with the opposite sex. If I had to deal with me and my antics I think I’d have a nervous breakdown. Either hubby has built up a serious level of immunity over the years or he has x-ray vision to see the more docile me residing beneath the acid tongued witch.
Take for example a few days ago, I came home rather tired, a little stressed and a bit peckish after pole class. I thought a bit of my left over chilli would do me nicely. But no, hubby had decided to be helpful and freeze it for me, in a large bowl, covered with cling film and divided into two portions by making a dent (with his hand) in the middle. You’d think I’d be delighted that he was trying to be thoughtful (let’s leave his slightly impracticable method out of this for the time being). Little did he know that I would go into full blown banshee mode because it wasn’t what I wanted, it wasn’t done right, I’d have to spend extra time trying to defrost it for my lunch the next day and it just annoyed the hell out of me!
First we yell, then we tear up, then we breathe.
Hubby says calm down, gives me a cuddle and all is well with the world again. My little episode is over and life carries on. I don’t really know what triggers me. Obviously I’m more volatile when the red faery is visiting, but more often than not lack of sleep and stress really have me standing on the edge ready to jump at any minute. Let’s hope hubby is always ready and waiting to catch me otherwise I’m not sure I’d recover from the fall.