It appears that all of the iffy little bitchy bouts I've been having of late are the product of suppressed hormonal rage, which culminated in an hysterical scene yesterday.
Today, I'm not even really sure what I was so very, very angry about that I kicked a hole in my bathroom door and flung an IKEA kiddies' chair at my husband's head.
It started with me muttering something nasty about an old lady's little lapdog wandering about my parking space just as we were arriving home from a short shop and hubby then telling me that I'm a horrible person sometimes. Which was very much the wrong thing to say, as was my response that I didn't appreciate him taking out the fact that he was having a shitty day on me...
This was then followed by loudness and cussing, mostly on my part, and him muttering "Whatever" as he walked off, thereby awakening the Legendary Wrath.
Things might not have gone so far south, had we just had it out then and there. But by way of (very effectively) pushing my buttons, hubby walked of, feigning indifference, leaving me to simmer in silence for a couple of hours before bringing out the chocolate stash and offering me a piece, thus unleashing said Legendary Wrath in full force.
And it is only in the aftermath of said Legendary Wrath that I could lucidly and coherently absorb and assimilate the bits and pieces that constitute the gut of my meltdown: the little things. Those little, pent-up frustrations that I don't voice for the sake of keeping the peace, built up over several months and compounded by my current large, hormonally charged and emotionally volatile state. Those little things you don't actually even notice until you fly down the spiral through annoyance, anger, rage and hysteria to the part where there are no more words to describe the incoherent, blubbering mass of enturbulation you've been reduced to by what should normally elicit no more than a snappy comeback...
Sometimes I wonder how we stay married.