Likely it's this way with all families: It's the little things that wear you down. It's the tissue on the denture or sitting down on the toilet and discovering, squish, that Joe didn't put the seat up. It's walking into the bathroom and seeing that someone had a bowel movement, and it's all over the seat and the floor. The little pop-up lid on the adult wipes has been left open, so the wipes are happily drying out.
It's opening the kitchen cabinet door and finding the plate someone (Joe) helpfully washed and put up that still has food on it, or the freshly washed paper plate on the stack of paper plates. It's the meal of hot tamales and refried beans that Joe says, "That looked like shit so I didn't even try it."
It's fixing Joe breakfast, and just as the scrambled eggs come out of the skillet, you realize he's out back in the yard, and it'll take him 15 minutes to make his way back to the house - IF you can get his attention without going outside in your jammies. It's Lola deciding at midnight that it's a fine time to go through every drawer in her bedroom. It's feeling like an ogre when you finally say, "Mama, GO to bed.,"
I guess it's just been a couple of days of things gone wrong to get me grumpy. The leaking roof is harder to fix than expected per the roofers that came by to give an estimate. I have a new Droid cell phone, and it's driving me nuts learning how to use it. So far I hate it. I tried to can peaches last night, and it was a miserable, big-time fail. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. by the time I got the kitchen cleaned up. Then I woke up at 3:00 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep for over an hour. By noon the next day I still hadn't had a chance to look at the news.
Just shoot me now.