Sigh. It's been another one of those inexplicably sucky days where I'm just mad at the world. I'm mad at baby Bean for being so sick and fussy. I'm mad at Sister for being home from school for the beginning of spring break and, like, wanting stuff. Snacks and one more cartoon and trips to Build-a-Bear and not to have to walk the dog just down the block and on and on. I'm mad at my Husband for going to work and leaving me here at home again with the kids. Work sounds like absolute heaven right now. I'm mad at the cashier at the grocery store for trying to talk to my fussy baby instead of just ringing.up.my.damn.groceries. Woman, if we could just get the hell out of the store, she'd stop being fussy for a minute. Soothing her is my job. PLEASE just do your damn job and shut the fuck up already.
See? Just awful. I'm trying to improve my shit mood by baking a French torte for dessert tonight. Generally, I find baking relaxing and therapeutic. Well, now that I'm no longer paid to do it, that is. And it is helping somewhat, mostly because I've been licking chocolate rum ganache and chocolate hazelnut spongecake batter off my fingers for the last hour. (Uh, no, I don't give a rat's ass about salmonella poisoning, thanks.) The cake is in the oven now and the house is beginning to smell less like burned chicken pot pie drippings and more like something delicious. Maybe it will help. And maybe I'll hit Husband up for some childcare tomorrow while I go off by myself and get my hair cut. I think I just need to get the hell out of here without anyone crying or barking or arguing or asking me for shit.
Now THAT'S what's really going to help.