Last night I was GRUMPY.
Irritable, impatient, of foul disposition.
And I'm not even sure why. And that just made it worse - the fact that all my excuses were pretty lame.
Like:
I forgot to take my medication this morning. Perhaps a fair point, but I'd like to say that I can manage for a few hours without it. Maybe not.
Or, I'm cold. I had only expected to be out for an hour, and then ended up being out all evening. For the first time in months I only had jeans on - with no leggings underneath. I'm very un-hardcore when it comes to being cold.
Or
This evening wasn't what I expected. Received a message saying we'd been invited for dinner and then were going to a pub quiz. I thought, hooray, nice meal, time to catch up with my sister-in-law, glass of wine at the pub then I'll come home to finish off all the things I'd planned to do that evening. Instead, I arrive at brother-in-law's place and he, hubby plus best friend are standing outside in like ZERO DEGREES, BARBEQUEING. Yep, that's what you get for marrying a South African. Braai-ing Boerewors in the middle of winter. And sister-in-law wasn't even there so no chance of a girl chat inside with a cup of tea.
Or
I'm tired and I have a lot to do. I also think I'm starting to get a bit stressed/anxious underneath my skin about our move to Cornwall, and all the things that have to happen before we go.
My mood was not helped by the fact that beer was spilled down my trousers as a result of the guys thumb-wrestling at the pub quiz (last week it was arm-wrestling but apparently their arms are consequentially still too sore to repeat the contest).
So, as you can imagine, I was a joy to be with. Or not. By the end of the day, (having stayed at the pub quiz and not come home early because it was actually pretty good and the pub was really nice AND part of me is thinking I need to make the most of hanging out with friends before we leave Brighton) I was even more tired, even more grumpy, upset hubby even more, and almost cried myself to sleep feeling guilty at how horrible I'd been.
And that's the thing. If I'd had a real good reason to be down, then maybe that would be different. I'd maybe have some justification in feeling sorry for myself. But the truth is, I didn't. The evening was actually very nice and the guys are all great. The boerewors was tasty and the wine at the pub was tasty too! And, as I was worrying about stuff I had to get done at home, which wasn't really aaalll that urgent to be honest, I could have left, and taken my cloudy frown with me, and chilled out, and been a nicer wife by the time hubby returned. But I didn't. I could have decided that none of my excuses were good enough, and put on a smile, and made the most of the evening. But I didn't.
I felt like I was 15 again, unable to control my emotions. Or perhaps unwilling to? I think by now I'm supposed to be able to CHOOSE JOY, as a poster I had for years and years said. But sometimes, or many times, I don't. I've maybe got a bit better at it since being married, because it's like there's a constant mirror showing you your imperfection and you can't escape and pretend that your actions have no effect on someone else. But yesterday I failed. Over and over again. And I'm sorry.
And totally undeserving of a husband who wipes my tears away and holds me tight and tells me that 'tomorrow is a new day'.
Irritable, impatient, of foul disposition.
And I'm not even sure why. And that just made it worse - the fact that all my excuses were pretty lame.
Like:
I forgot to take my medication this morning. Perhaps a fair point, but I'd like to say that I can manage for a few hours without it. Maybe not.
Or, I'm cold. I had only expected to be out for an hour, and then ended up being out all evening. For the first time in months I only had jeans on - with no leggings underneath. I'm very un-hardcore when it comes to being cold.
Or
This evening wasn't what I expected. Received a message saying we'd been invited for dinner and then were going to a pub quiz. I thought, hooray, nice meal, time to catch up with my sister-in-law, glass of wine at the pub then I'll come home to finish off all the things I'd planned to do that evening. Instead, I arrive at brother-in-law's place and he, hubby plus best friend are standing outside in like ZERO DEGREES, BARBEQUEING. Yep, that's what you get for marrying a South African. Braai-ing Boerewors in the middle of winter. And sister-in-law wasn't even there so no chance of a girl chat inside with a cup of tea.
Or
I'm tired and I have a lot to do. I also think I'm starting to get a bit stressed/anxious underneath my skin about our move to Cornwall, and all the things that have to happen before we go.
My mood was not helped by the fact that beer was spilled down my trousers as a result of the guys thumb-wrestling at the pub quiz (last week it was arm-wrestling but apparently their arms are consequentially still too sore to repeat the contest).
So, as you can imagine, I was a joy to be with. Or not. By the end of the day, (having stayed at the pub quiz and not come home early because it was actually pretty good and the pub was really nice AND part of me is thinking I need to make the most of hanging out with friends before we leave Brighton) I was even more tired, even more grumpy, upset hubby even more, and almost cried myself to sleep feeling guilty at how horrible I'd been.
And that's the thing. If I'd had a real good reason to be down, then maybe that would be different. I'd maybe have some justification in feeling sorry for myself. But the truth is, I didn't. The evening was actually very nice and the guys are all great. The boerewors was tasty and the wine at the pub was tasty too! And, as I was worrying about stuff I had to get done at home, which wasn't really aaalll that urgent to be honest, I could have left, and taken my cloudy frown with me, and chilled out, and been a nicer wife by the time hubby returned. But I didn't. I could have decided that none of my excuses were good enough, and put on a smile, and made the most of the evening. But I didn't.
I felt like I was 15 again, unable to control my emotions. Or perhaps unwilling to? I think by now I'm supposed to be able to CHOOSE JOY, as a poster I had for years and years said. But sometimes, or many times, I don't. I've maybe got a bit better at it since being married, because it's like there's a constant mirror showing you your imperfection and you can't escape and pretend that your actions have no effect on someone else. But yesterday I failed. Over and over again. And I'm sorry.
And totally undeserving of a husband who wipes my tears away and holds me tight and tells me that 'tomorrow is a new day'.
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