Losing it, live

I was just starting to post another installment of my gripping new series, what the hell is wrong with people (yes, already), when I spilled my god.damned. water. and that straw broke this camel's back.

My five year old (yes, that five year old) has had yet another horrible day, and I am officially a donkey on the edge. Maybe over the edge. After having a huge fit that cost him participation in a friend's birthday party earlier today, my lovely son just spent the first half of dinner spewing food and putting his feet on the table and the second half screaming from his room while we finished dinner without him (he did get to eat, just after us, I'm not quite to the point of starving him. yet.). My husband left the door open and let in approximately 4,309 mosquitoes, 4,308 of which have bitten me and 1 of which has bitten the 3 year old, who is now whining about it. One of the babies is emitting a low, grating whine for no reason I can ascertain, and my husband just employed me to try screwing in sheetrock in the new bathroom (and I use the term "new" loosely - while it is not yet finished, it has been under construction for a very. long. time. now and therefore does not really qualify as "new"), and the stupid fucking screws kept jumping off the drill.

Then, I sat back down to work on my post. You know, the post about why I ALREADY hate the world and everyone in it. Or something just slightly less all-encompassing. And I knocked my full glass of water over. And promptly burst into tears.

"Don't post angry," says my husband as he passes through the room. I told him that I know I'm as out of control as the 5 year old, but I have one advantage - if he tried to send me to MY room, I'd go in a heartbeat. God I could use a nap.