I am SO lucky I married a patient man - one with sisters, and thusly with experience in the areas of raging hormones. Because my hormones, and me right along with them, they rage.
This weekend was a doozy, as far as the raging. Remember my statement about being possessed? This time, not by crafty urges, but by all the emotions of a recently caught wildebeest being auctioned off for use as farm labor. I was angry, I was worried, I was angry, I was hurt, but really mostly full of rage(ing hormones).
And Jesse put up with it. He was even nice to me, which is remarkable - especially because I was so ingracious and full of rage at his being nice to me. "You want to take me to my favorite coffee place (inflection of anger - imagine the tone of voice as 'you want me to cut off my own chin with an oatmeal spoon?')? FINE!" And so he did. And it was closed, which was like a gentle slap in the face to remind that he still tried to make me happy, even though it was fail. We wandered around the very interesting 4th street area, chock full of shops of oddness and quirk, which I was too cranky to go in - but he took me anyway, even though he would MUCH rather have been home dominating the world on his laptop.
In repayment, I continued to rage. Until yesterday morning, at which point all my rage dissipated like someone reached in and massaged it out of the knot in my gut, or pushed it down to my belly so that it could transform itself into muscle cramps. Better cramps than useless rage and anxiety, I always say.
He also made corned beef and cabbage. Which I don't really like, but MAN, that is a lot of effort for a fatty lump of flesh. I appreciate the effort of that particular dish - especially because I will prolly never make it. Because I love my husband.
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