About 4 times a year I get really really angry. By angry, I mean I raise my voice, close my eyes, and usually...scream.
The rest of the year, I am pretty zen. I take deep breaths. I laugh at myself. I don't cry over spilt milk.
For example, last week while doing the dishes, I broke one our good plates. 5 minutes later I broke a mug. No problem.
Tonight though, whilst unwrapping my Skinny Cow ice cream cone, the cone flew out of my hand, landing ice cream side down on the floor, breaking off the tip of the cone and coating the ice cream with cat hair.
I lost my shit.
Seriously. I picked the cone up, saw the hair on it, hurled it in the sink, screamed, slapped the counter with my hands so hard they are still stinging, and marched into the other room and screamed at the wall.
I still don't know why. Poor Tracey didn't know what to think. Like I said...I don't get angry and yell at things.
It took me about 15 minutes to be able to speak. I apologized to Tracey. I asked him to get me another cone from the fridge and unwrap it for me.
This is/was so irrational and I really think it had to do with the fact that I had ruined my treat. Food death mourning.
I need therapy.
I just wanted to share.