Sweaty and furious.
The Fury descended at about 2 a.m. last night and I'm having a hard time tamping it down. I don't know why I'm so pissed.
Sweety and I were being all romantic when I started feeling mad. So I did really mean things to him last night and he loved every minute. I thought that I'd be calmer today when I woke but I'm not. I feel super alert. Super alert and ready to flip out with the slightest bit of provoking.
It doesn't help that I had to go to motherfucking Wal-Mart twice today. Are you required to have a head injury in order to work there? I think so.
I went to 3 separate stores looking for those black and white composition notebooks and couldn't find a one. The kids will have to do without those til some can be tracked down.
I remember when I was a kid and the only school supplies we needed were paper, pencils and crayons or colored pencils. We have 3 pages of shit between the boys of stuff that they need.
I guess the boys are a little put out because they didn't get brand spanking new shoes for school. BigBrother(13) has a pair that's been worn maybe two or three times and LittleBrother(11) has a pair that belonged to BB but were barely worn. BB's have a tiny scuff on the toe and he doesn't like that. A. SCUFF. ON. THE. TOE. OF. THE. SHOE. I told Sweety to give that shoe to BB and tell him to fuck himself with it and wear the damn thing. Shoes are made to get dirty. You know, because they are on the ground and all.
I can't believe that I told Sweety to tell a 13 year old kid to fuck himself and am telling you about it. I blame The Fury.
8/18/8 12:16 a.m.
In the 2.5 hours since writing the last sentence, I've had:
2 pieces of toast with honey butter and a glass of milk.
I no longer feel like kicking someone in the head just for the hell of it. Phwew.