I am a quivering puddle of hormones at the moment. I am afraid to try to do the dishes, because with my current crying and frustration, I am afraid I might give in to the urge to smash a couple of them.
What, you may ask, has reduced me to this pitiful state?
I can't get the freaking parking brake off in our truck. I obviously can't drive anywhere with it on, it happens to be the type of parking brake that actually works, really well, at keeping the truck from moving. So, after hours spent pouring over recipes and planning out menus for the week and compiling a grocery list, I am rendered utterly incapable of going grocery shopping before Dusey gets home with the car, at which point we will both be hungry and in need of dinner and he won't want to go shopping with me and I haven't gotten to see him at all today so I don't want to go shopping after he's home, but I need food so I can make something for the get-together we're going to tomorrow with some friends. I looked up how to release the brake in the manual, tried its instructions, and they didn't work. I messaged Dusey about how to do it, and he gave me brief instructions, which I tried, and couldn't get to work. I refuse to humiliate myself by calling my father-in-law to come take off the stupid parking brake for me. It's not something that should be hard to do. I can't do it though.
So, I'm a quivering puddle of hormones once again. I'm starting to get a little sick of collapsing into angry tears once every couple of days. Maybe I will make myself feel better once again by making some incredibly sugary and unhealthy dessert that would inevitably just make my pants fit a little tighter than they ought to.