I should poke myself in the nose

Man oh man am I a moody PITA as of late. I simultaneously feel bad for Brad, who is doing a marvelous job of tolerating his wacko wife, and want to poke him in the nose.

Brad, mind you, is doing nothing wrong. He's been marvelous these past few months. For example, I will crawl into bed, fully knowing that I want a glass of water. When he is within earshot, I ask for one. If he fills the glass from the tap, I send it back and ask for Brita. And when he brings the Brita water without a straw, I send it back again (straws are the best). Does Brad complain? Tell me to get my rump out of bed and prepare my own glass of water per my exacting standards? Nope. He just fulfills my requests. And memorizes my order, so that the following night, when I do the exact same thing, he gets it right the first time. See? Brad is wonderful.

So why did the following things get my hackles up last night and this morning?

1. Brad fell asleep while we were watching TV. How in the world can this bother me? Here's a fun first trimester story. One Saturday, I am eager to run a long list of errands. I come into the living room to find Brad lying on the couch watching a movie. Brad works insane hours and treasures his weekends. He deserves some quality couch time. What do I do? Tell him to get off the couch and get in the shower so we can get moving. And he does it! What do I do next? Climb onto the couch and fall asleep. For THREE HOURS. When I wake up, Brad's feathers aren't ruffled. He's lying on the bed, watching the same movie on the small TV in the bedroom, having taken care of a bunch of chores around the house before resuming his relaxation time. Had the shoe been on the other foot, I would have blown a gasket. Yet Brad falling asleep at 10:30 when we are watching a really lousy TV show on a Tuesday night? My blood boils uncontrollably. Who am I?

2. Brad did a few loads of laundry last night, and did not fold the sheets to my ridiculous standards. Also, when he hung up my items to dry (because I am a high maintenance laundry sort of gal, and he is okay with that), he did not smooth them out perfectly beforehand. Who cares? Did I somehow forget about the bliss that should result from the first part of the sentence? Brad did a few loads of laundry! He hung up his own no-iron shirts! He folded his own massive collection of summer camp T-shirts! How can this ever be a problem?

3. Brad tried to kiss me and give me a hug after he got out of the shower this morning, while his body temperature was still high. Heaven forbid. It was the first time he'd seen me that morning (well, the first time I'd been vertical and not poking him to get him to snooze or shut off his alarm), and he was all smiles and happy to see me. Even after he realized that I was a grumpalumpagous, he was still smiling. This fabulous man who puts up with my ever-changing moods wanted to give me a hug and a kiss. And I cringed because he was warm. Know what I'd really like right now? Yup.

See? The sane part of my brain still exists. It just wrote this blog post. It is just silenced by and in awe of the crazy part of my brain which rises up out of nowhere and takes over. Serenity now!