Throwing a good old scream-and-cry-til-you-can’t-breathe temper tantrum would be so much fun. Well, maybe not fun, but re-energizing. You know, the kind where you just start windmilling your arms and your hands are balled up into fists and you pretty much go destructo on anything in your path. I hope the things in my path would be my roommates. That would make me happy.
It was so wonderful for so long to have this place to just the two of us and the hound. Even before that, with our amazing landlord and super-cool friend were the best roommates. We definitely got spoiled.
But now it’s stomping, door-slamming and general household malaise. I don’t know who’s on edge more: Me, or the dog. I dread coming home, but I’m too tired and in too much need of needing to do stuff that I can’t go anywhere else. I often want to go hide in my room, but it’s more often than not such a disaster the pure thought of holing up in there is purely frightening.
Grumble grumble grumble.