Hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt!

I wish I'd prefaced my arrival at Peevish Place this evening with the above statement, as the WCM nearly had his head quite messily torn off his shoulders and hurled across the room in a PMS-induced rage. I was rather inclined, at the time, to jump up and down upon it in a frenzied dance of incandescent fury, but put that off until after dinner.

What had the man done to pique my ire so? Tried to hand me tickets to the circus while my hands were holding a bag of green beans and a pair of scissors. Yes. The vile creature. How dare he? The nerve.

(*le sigh*)

After hurling the bag of green beans into the microwave and slamming the door with rather unnecessary force, I stormed wrathfully out of the house for a calming walk around the block, during which I endeavored to remember that I love the WCM and don't really want him to die a screaming bloody death. Possibly.

I came to the rapid realization that Aunt Flo has not foisted her unwanted presence upon me in over 20 days, thus making this officially The Week From Hell! I should have cottoned to this earlier in the day when I was writing up class cuts with unusual relish. Or perhaps when I came home early and decided I needed a catnap, only to wake up nearly 3 hours later. What might've clued me in a smidge earlier would have been the snack I had of Thin Mints and Doritos. Sweet and Salty, anyone?

You'll have to excuse me now. I must go calm my inner homicidal maniac. And possibly apologize to the WCM. Maybe.