Mood Swings Do Not a Story Make

Yeah, I was over-reacting yesterday. The mail man was-kind-of-less-than-pleasant, but not, in fact, verbally abusive as I last reported. I was inexplicably emotional yesterday. That became evident when I cried because Brent was listening to me with his eyes closed. Sure, it sounds silly. NOW. At the time it was devastating. I didn't mean to cry, I just kind-of couldn't help it. If I didn't know better I'd think there was another little monster on the way. (And, thanks for asking, I DO know better. Seriously.) This is just an emotionally overwhelming time of year for me. I want things to be perfect for my kids . . . I know that's not possible . . . I still want to try . . . I do too much. Would you believe that this year I'm actually doing better than most?! Long story short, the mailman said he wouldn't deliver any more mail to my box until I filled out this dumb little green paper with the names of everyone who would be receiving mail here. Huh? Can he really do that? What happened to the good old days of putting every piece of mail with MY HOUSE NUMBER ON IT in MY BOX?! Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Mail Man. (Farting noise, thumbs down.) I'm over it now.