Dog Days Go Away

Haven't heard from me in over a week? Well, I'm not going to lie to you, it's because I'm having anger management issues.

I’m fairly certain that this heat is, in fact, making me crazier than normal. At least that’s all I can figure. I actually yelled at two people at Kroger a few days ago. Yelled. That’s not how I was raised. I am a good Southern girl who never says that I think you are acting stupid to your face…I just status update about it later. Well, ring the church bells because I finally said it. In so many words I shared my “feelings” strongly to Gwen at the Customer Service Counter at the permanently-under-construction Kroger I go to and some random man waving a Western Union form in her face. In my defense…he did cut in line. When he did and I said, “HEY” seven times (loudly in his ear) and he pretended like he could fill out an entire Western Union form but couldn’t speak my language, I reminded Gwen that I had been standing there since Obama’s inauguration and she’d better wait on me because I was getting really close to selling my impatient two year old to the highest bidder (or just putting him in someone’s buggy when they weren’t looking). The balloon they had given him when we walked through the door had long since escaped to the ceiling and he was stacking Kit Kats on the candy aisle. Not that I really cared. It was when he ran over and began sucking on the packages of triple A batteries that I grudgingly intervened only to be reacquainted with Mr. Tantrum.

Gwen was appropriately condescending to me as she told the man to wait a second, helped me and then called me “mom” to get my attention. The man of course nodded in understanding to her request to wait because apparently Gwen is the Rosetta Stone of Kroger. I left there completely feeling like “that woman.” I got into my car and I burst into tears. I actually burst-ed. Ugh…

So, this does have me concerned. Yes, it is the dog days of summer. Yes, we are all hot and secretly dehydrated. Yes, if you type irritable, fatigued, sweating all the time and increased urge to cuss under your breath into the Web MD Symptom checker it claims you have IBS (of course I believe that is the fall back diagnosis for all diseases Web MD can’t figure out with the symptom checker). Whatever the reason for my lack of Zen, I have noticed the men in my house giving me extra space these days. I’m fairly certain that Samuel fixed a Lean Cuisine last night and put himself to bed while I was tearfully and angrily searching for the remote control and muttering to myself. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’ll be so glad to get out of this heat. Once you hit temperatures outside that are identical to the ones on the cans of biscuits in your refrigerator, it’s just too dang hot.

Hey, it ain't a pretty picture, but it's an honest one.