Sure, I know that I’m pissy pretty much every Monday, but today I’m in a much worse mood than usual.
So I apologize in advance if I say something stupid and offend you.
I’ve already done that this morning, and there’s no reason why such behavior shouldn’t carry over into the rest of my day.
While I was typing that cheery opening, one of the cats threw up in the kitchen. Awesome! This day just keeps getting better!
Let’s see, it’s freezing. 26 degrees right now as I write this all bundled up on the couch. I’ve got the heat cranked, I’m wearing my warmest writing toga, and I have the interns shining heat lamps on me as I type.
Get that lamp a little higher, redheaded intern!
You cannot get good free help these days.
I don’t like the cold. Clearly, I moved to Maine because I hate myself and felt the need to punish myself about six months out of every year.
It’s not like I’m a horrible person, Modern Philosophers. I woke up in a good mood and hoping to spread a little love and joy, but I got very quickly shut down.
Sure, I made matters much, much worse by going into dickhead mode, but that’s what happens when I’m hurt.
I get mad at myself for opening my heart to the possibility of getting hurt, and then even more frustrated for being so naive and idiotic when it comes to my heart.
When will I ever learn that love is not meant for me? I had my helping of it, didn’t ration out the portions properly, and now I’ve run out of what was in stock.
Of course, nothing reminds me of this more than October 19.
This day, aside from being the nineteenth day of the tenth month and twelve days until Halloween, will forever remain my Wedding Anniversary.
The Day of the Little White Dress Lie.
That was the day the Catholic School Boy stood at an altar and swore before God and some friends and relatives that he was going to love someone until either the day he died, or the day she killed him.
Looking back at it now, the latter was actually the more likely option, so I should consider myself lucky to even be alive to ramble on like a spoiled brat right now.
And so, because today screws with my heart, I lashed out at someone who has come to mean the world to me.
She doesn’t seem to understand that even though I try really hard to act normal, I’m just a very fragile museum piece that is best kept hidden way back on a deep, dark shelf where no one can ever come across me and risk breaking me yet again.
Someone broke me on this day many years ago, and the cracks never properly healed.
There’s coffee in the kitchen. Enjoy. I just highly recommend that you avoid me should you seeing me wandering like a broken hearted Ghost through the halls of The House on the Hill.
This is one Haunted House that will not make your Halloween more thrilling!