I didn’t have a good excuse. No sudden death, news of great tragedy, or personal fall-through. The clock just met 4:00, the kid of choice started with the customary late afternoon ranting, and it all unraveled from there.
Somehow, the everyday things – the weight of my worries, the onslaught of my duties, the trial of just getting through the rest of the day – were more than I could handle. A few timely smart-alec comments of the can’t-reply-in-charity variety; a fan that quit working so that, during said downpours none of the fans worked in my car and I was frantically wiping the windshield with a blankie-chewie Tigger; a potty battle I couldn’t win, even if I was feeling stubborn; stray dishes popping up after the teetering pile in the sink was left to dry; a whining dog and a barking toddler (yes, you read that right). I felt myself within shouting distance of crying or even sitting down in the middle of the grocery store to have a good kicking fit.