[Early morning, at the homestead:]
7:15 am: Wake up to a dog laying across my face and pawing at my pillow. Try to move dog over only to find that I have accidentally moved my face into dog tongue range. Sputter and gasp as wet dog slobber drips down my neck.
7:17 am: Realize that if I don't get up right now I will soon be lying in another type of dog fluid. Roll out of bed and curse at dog that there is a reason we put in a doggie door.
7:19 am: Wonder if I can go back to sleep.
7:20 am: Realize that is impossible. Yell at JL to get up right now, the dogs need to be walked.
7:25 am: Grumble because JL wants to take a shower(!) before heading to the dog park. Cleanliness is next to godliness, only on Sunday, I say.
7:45 am: Complain because JL is taking the garbage out when we should be leaving to take the dogs out right now. Am surprised by JL's negative reaction and his assertion that at least he is taking the garbage out. Like that's any big whoop (he does it every day - what, I'm supposed to jump up for joy every morning?).
7:50 am: Finally leave for the dog park. Apologize to JL on the way over.
[A little later, back at the homestead:]
10:40 am: JL suggests that he leave his work for a little bit to take me to a shop I've been wanting to go to so that I can get some Christmas decorations. I happily accept.
10:45 am: Get annoyed because JL has to go to the bathroom before we go.
11:00 am: Leave for shop that I want to go to. Yell at JL because he missed the turn and now its going to take an extra 15 minutes to get there.
11:01 am: Wonder if I should up my meds, but quickly shake that off. This is clearly not my problem. I was not the one that took the wrong turn.
11:15 am: Arrive at shop. Apologize to JL for being short tempered.
[That afternoon, at the grocery store:]
5:25 pm: Walking down the aisle in the grocery store. Notice JL glance over at the batteries and slow the cart down - quickly give him that look because there is no way we need more batteries and why does he always have to stockpile them; batteries and light bulbs - he could start his own dang hardware store.
5:25 and 15 seconds: JL sees look and immediately steps up the pace.
5:30 am: Apologize to JL and tell him that he can buy as many batteries as he wants. One can never have enough batteries (but still feel at bit smug because for once we are going to get out of the store without any more batteries).
[A little later, still in the grocery store:]
6:10 pm: Am breathing a sigh of relief because we are finally in the dairy aisle which means we are almost done shopping. Ask JL if we should get cream to serve with the chocolate cake that I am making for lunch with friends tomorrow. He says that he doesn't need it. HE DOESN'T NEED IT. Totally lose it and say that I didn't invite these people over - he did! And now he has to work all weekend so I have to do all the cooking and the cleaning and all I want is a little dialogue (yes, I said dialogue) about what we should serve HIS friends that HE invited over, and really, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK. JL looks at me like I've got a head full of venomous snakes (i.e., fearful, very fearful) and carefully apologizes.
6:15 am: Apologize to JL for overreacting.
6:21 am: In the checkout line. Unloading the groceries I find that another package of batteries HAS SOMEHOW MANAGED TO FIND ITS WAY INTO OUR SHOPPING CART. Look at JL and find that I am plenty satisfied by the fear of God in his eyes. Wonder to myself what could possibly have caused that?
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