So today I finally had my delayed stress reaction to the high pressure of last week.
I forgot my laptop this morning and had to go home to get it, thereby missing my 8.01 train to work. Work was ordinary, if slightly annoying, and at the end of it I managed to catch a train that was remarkably empty (and therefore got a seat, wonder of wondrous wonders), and came home.
Podae refused to say hello to me, perhaps because My One True Love and I spent twenty minutes trying to catch him this morning so we could walk to the train station unassailed by a mischievious puss doing his best to catch the train with us.
I came inside after the Podder dissed me completely, and the steam valve blew when I couldn't get to the recipe book I wanted because of the godawful mess on the kitchen bench.
See, if my external world is in a chaotic heap and my internal world is happy, then it doesn't matter. Everything's fine, and I just tidy up. But when both worlds are cross and irritated and out of control, then I am not a happy girl.
So I paused. Went outside to photograph some of my tote bags. The camera gave up the ghost with a dead battery just as I finally had the perfect angle all framed up. Of course.
I whistled air through my gritted teeth.
Came back inside. Grimly set about tidying the kitchen. Cut potatoes in half. Steamed bloody asparagus. Grumped at My One True Love. Had a beer. Got over it.
The Amateur Actress says that sometimes she finds it difficult to tell how stressed I am, because I manage (hide?) it so well. And it's true - my worst days are still pretty rosy and chirpy, because I'm a natural optimist.
And that kind of made me glad, because at least if I'M having a crap day, I'm not necessarily showing it or taking it out on the people around me.
But that damn kitchen bench? It's gleaming tonight, to within an inch of its darkly laminated life.