Sometimes I'm a dink...

There are times when I sometimes fly off the handle. For no good reason.

I know, I know. It seems impossible. But sometimes a gal just has to get in a really good snit. (Insert inappropriate and erroneous male comment on monthly cycles here.)

Take this evening, for instance -- my poor boyfriend came home with groceries and made dinner. The plan was fish and chips. I. of course, eyed the giant drum of Crisco (eeeeyaacchhh) and bag of fresh cod with narrowed eyes. Swimming in grease. The kitchen had just been tidied and would now play host to all sorts of free-flying oils and horrid smells. I kinda hate white fish (unless marinated in all manner of potent, aggressive seasonings). My boyfriend had just turned into the enemy -- a pimp of cholestral, triglycerides and gross fishy smells. I could almost hear some invisible voice insisting "EAAAAAT... EAAAAAT!!! By the way, darling, I bought you a muumuu--"

I could feel reason sliding out of my pores. Suddenly I was infuriated -- in much the same manner you would be watching someone take a sledgehammer and trashing your car, and only stopping long enough to take a big dump on the dashboard. I stalked out of the room, grumbling under my breath with all manner of vile and filthsome curses. I went and did laundry. I tidied the bedroom. Played Spider Solitaire... All the while trying not to gnash off my arm in indignant fury. Naturally, I was firmly convinced I was in the right.

Against my better judgement, I went downstairs and ate (one of the best insults during a fight is to turn your nose up at food someone has slaved over. Not terribly nice, but very effective). But suddenly I felt better. I felt foolish. Meanwhile, my poor boy just sat there with a bewildered look on his face. Now ensconced in rationality, I apologized.

As I said... flying off the handle for no good reason.

I think I'll wait until next week before I try to renegotiate the household chores workload, and threaten to go on strike...