Excuse me, ma'am. Are you the psycho that just spent 65 minutes trying to get the microscopic screw-on back of your four-year-old daughter's Christmas earrings to engage, but found that since you bought them on Amazon, the threads refuse to line up and you ended up dropping the back on the bathroom floor 476 times? And while your bronchitis-filled body bent over your little girl's ear (who, by the way, was pretending to be a very cute princess at the time), repeatedly sniffing so the dripping snot didn't actually escape your chapped nostrils, did you feel your blood pressure rising? Did you refuse all logic that told you to give up, and instead allow that moment of irritation to spiral out of control until your nerves were humming and you yelled at every single person in the house? At that point, did you feel guilty, apologize, but then decide to try the earring again. Immediately following, did the irritation become so great that you yelled at everyone again and sent them off to bed.
Moments later, were you the person who, once again apologized to her kids, sang their nightly songs, both quickly and tunelessly, then went to sit on a child-sized stool in the bathroom to try the earrings again. After another 20 minutes did you kick something across your room before signaling defeat?
Are you now unable to shake off this extreme sense of irritation? And did you let off a whole string of derogatory swear words directed at your obese cat for licking the piece of cheese that you dropped on the floor while trying to make your unhealthy nightly salad?
Are you now writing a crappy blog full of run-on sentences and too many commas to share this very lame event that sent your irritation levels to red alert?
Why, yes, that is indeed me. I am that psychotic person who loses it over a stupid, piece of crap earring.
I might need to see someone about this, someone who has nimble, earring-friendly fingers.
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