I’ve been such a bitch for the last couple weeks. And for once in my life, I will say it’s hormones. Any other time, I’d be like, no, it’s not PMS, I really just can’t stand you. But no. This is above and beyond.
As my dear friend Kat once said, I hate everyone and everything they stand for.
The rope of my patience isn’t so much a rope as it is frayed cotton thread. That said, I’ve not been big on conversation or discussion lately. I really don’t want to talk about things. I want direct requests. Grunt, point and gesture.
Also don’t suck at driving. I already had some hilarious road rage issues before the hCG came into the picture (read I yell at things with my windows up and occasionally I’ll honk if something almost takes out my apparently invisible car). But the hormones.. oh my god.
I mean, seriously, how do you NOT notice that your turn signal is on for an entire 2 miles when you’re driving side streets? And people. You’re allowed to drive the speed limit. In fact, it’s encouraged. According to the DMV, driving slow in the fast lane can frustrate other drivers WHO KNOW WHAT THE HELL THEY’RE DOING! Honestly, what is the point of driving in the Carpool/HOV lane if you’re not going to go any faster than the outermost lanes?
Oh, right. Some people like to be douchebags.
And speaking of douchebags, if you’re going to drive like an asshole, at least use your turn signals properly. And by properly I mean use them when you’re switching lanes, especially if you’re weaving in and out of traffic into dangerously narrow openings. And don’t leave them on for the next 2 miles.
Okay, last thing on shitty drivers, and this one is scary: talked to a guy at the DMV who mentioned that he failed the vision test. I asked if he got corrective lenses and he said he did, but he doesn’t like to wear them because they get in the way.
They get in the way of what?! SEEING CLEARLY?! Seriously. And he was like, I’ve never caused an accident, blah blah blah.
That’s terrifying.
So anyway, the last few weeks have been tough and I’ve had some pretty solidly bitchtacular moments. I’m so so so sorry if you’ve found yourself in the line of hormonally fueled fire.
That’s mostly for my parents. If they actually read this.
On a happier note, I’ll hopefully know if my little bug is a ladybug or a gentleman…y..bug.
Let me rephrase that.
Hopefully, by the end of Friday, baby will no longer be an “it.”
Happy thoughts happy thoughts! And to baby: please don’t be shy. This is likely the only time in your life that I’ll say this, so mark it well and don’t forget the context: spread your legs.
