Today is that One Day of the Month when I am an absolute nightmare of a human being.
Today, I chose my underwear carefully, for everyone's sake. Because, historically, given my level of tolerance on this particular day, a wedgie might be all it takes to send me over the edge into pure, undiluted rage.
Today, I drove to town and actually called a little blue-haired, 75 pound, 89-year-old lady driving a 1986 Buick Century station wagon a complete f*ck*ng idiot. I also tailgated her.
Today, I didn't tip the coffee stand guy because his perkiness utterly pissed me off. Get out of my face with your manscaped eyebrows and shiny lip balm, you moron.
Today, the humidity outside made me curse the clouds. I literally CURSED the clouds. I'm sure they heard me. I cursed very loudly.
Today, I drove my husband out of the house, to golf in the cursed humidity, because if he'd stayed, we would have ended up in a massive, Nagasaki-style blowout over his inability to use a coaster.
Today, I yelled at my son for growing out of his underwear.
Everyone's avoiding me. Perfect.