Blog-ette

As the title suggests, this is just a mini-blog. Just a funny story that will be infinitely funnier if you know me. (My apologies to all you strangers, hopefully it is as least moderately entertaining for you as well.)

I can be a moody woman. When I get stressed, or tired, or overwhelmed....I sometimes morph into Psycho Stephanie and enter a world where facts are irrelevant and all that matters is how I feel and what I want. Thankfully, the older I get the less she makes an appearance. In my personal psychological evaluation of myself, my theory is that after the things I have been through it is harder and harder for me to get worked up over the small things because my priority scale has been reevaluated. The scale used to start with not returning phone calls within five minutes and ended up somewhere like forgetting my birthday. Now the scale doesn't even start until someone loses a limb or my hair is on fire. But just know, in the past I have been known to have a good tantrum or two...or ten.

About a week ago Chet and I had a crabby weekend. Nothing completely awful happened, but a bunch of little things just keep snowballing together until my bitch 'o meter kicked in. More than doing things that pissed me off, Chet was just doing things without thinking that were making me insecure - which in turn makes me pissy. Now Chet and I really don't ever fight. I like to think we are both so mature and wise now that we don't need to, but the truth is probably that we are still new enough to be on our better behavior somewhat. So the weekend passed without incident, I remained semi-bitchy until Tuesday, and Chet continued to let me.

Wednesday came and it was such a beautiful day that it was impossible for me to hold onto my bitchiness. I had the day off, spent the afternoon playing my best round of golf ever, and there was just no way I was going to be able to pull off crabby. So went to Chet's, had a great night, and we are cuddling up at the end of the night pillow talking when Chet brings up my weekend bitchiness. (Which was either incredibly brave or incredibly dumb - my good mood must have lulled his "look out! danger!" brain cells into a coma) We have a half hearted, half asleep post-mortem and Chet jokingly asks if our 'fight' is done. I laugh and tell him he hasn't even seen me fight or yell yet and his response was - verbatim - "you? yell? fight? yeah right" and then he rolled over and fell asleep.

I kid you not. He found the idea of me getting mad....funny. He doesn't think I have it in me to be really mean. So either I am way more well adjusted than I thought....or Chet is in for a rude awakening one day.