Some days, people walk into traffic.

Bad mood today. Why? I'm exhausted. I can't seem to catch up, no matter how much I sleep.

Hubs and I met at the gym. Place was packed with a-holes. Well, there were people in front of their a-holes. Really, nobody was an a-hole to us, it was just packed. To the gills. We had a half assed lame workout. Gave up. But my faux energy drink gave me a little boost, which is good, because before then I was truly seeing double.

Actually had a nice dinner at this pita joint we like around the corner. Some kind of grilled chicken salad thing, a mushroom hummus plate, and a feta cheese dip. I was FAMISHED. Even though I'd eaten more than my usual quota already. Exhaustion. Stress. Eating. But, the shit was good. And I was happy.

We are having a birthday gathering for my daughter on Sunday. Her birthday was a week and a half ago. We've been so busy that it hasn't happened. I had asked hubby to help me with plans weeks ago, and not one plan has been helped with. He's been extremely busy, but I'd prefer a "I don't have time to help you right now, sorry. Maybe the day before, I can just go and get whatever you need". But no. No response. Other than acknowledgement of said list - really, just helping me decide on what to have food wise. Other than pizza, which is the pre-determined main course for every children's birthday party. Until 18? Maybe.  But what other food should we serve? What do I need to buy/prepare? Do we have enough shit for people to get chubby on?

Anyway, we stopped into my usual birthday cake haunt to order. Went to the counter, there was someone at the deli which is right next to the bakery, so I asked him. Blank stare. "The cake person left for the day."  So I asked if we could place an order to pick up Sunday. No answer. Finally, he told us to go ask at customer service, it's not his department. SERIOUSLY? I'm about to bust my fist through the glass case and throw a shitload of sweaty meats at the dude. Maybe then he'd actually be able to think. Instead of a moment of satisfaction and a looming repair bill and criminal record, we went to customer service. Similar shit. She asked what size cake, we told her we already picked them out. She walked with us to the counter, we explained that we wanted them written on and to pick up Sunday - which I ALWAYS do at this store, for years now... and she had that same blank stare. Let me tell you, I was NOT having it. Tired, annoyed, stressed, I wanted to smack the apathy right off of her face, but instead I told her that we'd go elsewhere, perhaps there were other stores that actually cared about customer service.

Yeah, I'm in a bad mood. You'd be too.

So we were crossing the street, and a slow car was chugging along. Hubby and I were clearly annoyed, and he walked SO close to the car that I had envisioned him splattering all over me seconds later. He didn't know why I was mad. That was some man shit if I've ever seen it. No. Please don't get hit by a car just because you're annoyed. Yeah, he was going super slow. But he might have been texting, or jerking off, or sleeping at the wheel. Not worth it.

Now, I have a party to host in a day and a half. I'm working tomorrow - not a long gig, but he's rehearsing and then going out of town for the eve for a gig. When the hell am I supposed to deal with this? Plus, have I mentioned how FUCKING EXHAUSTED I've been? Is it the tamoxifen? Is my brain finally cracking under pressure? Is there a blood clot forming in my leg that is hitting some bizarre nerve that is making me go all narcoleptic? Am I about to drop dead because I agreed to take this stupid shit? And am I about to drop dead, in a bad mood??? That would super suck.

I may end up spending a fortune that I don't have so I can get a last minute catering deal. If only he'd told me that he didn't have time. Perhaps not what he wanted his answer to be, but I would be a lot less pissed off right now. I can't even envision baking a cake or two. All I can imagine is this glass of wine next to me, the soft bed awaiting me, and my fist through the deli counter, followed by flying sweaty deli meats being tossed to and fro.

Now, THAT'S a party.