I must apologize for my spottiness in posting, which I plan to remedy. I tend to get overwhelmed with the blues when daylight savings time hits and it's the only excuse I can offer for my general crankiness as of late.
I present a one-act play, based on events of the previous night:
Amber decides to be nice to her much-beleagured future husband, Sean, and hopes to make him spaghetti with meat sauce. Earlier in the day, Sean was sent to the grocery store with a list that specifically requested a can of crushed tomatoes with basil. She opens the cupboard to find prepared pasta sauce, labeled "Newman's Own: Tomato and Basil." There is no can of crushed tomatoes.
Amber: What is this? What the hell is this?
Sean: Crushed tomatoes.
Amber: What? No it's not. This isn't what I asked for!
Sean: Yes it is. It has crushed tomatoes in it and basil.
Amber: This is NOT what I wanted. This is prepared marinara.
Sean: No it's not.
Amber: YES IT IS. I KNEW YOU COULDN'T BE TRUSTED.
Sean: You said crushed tomatoes with basil! They didn't have any crushed tomatoes with basil!
Amber storms off to the computer to visit the Hunt's Web site. Guess what? They don't have crushed tomatoes with basil.
Needless to say, I was in the foulest mood and was flipping out for no discernible reason. Have we all been there, ladies? Please tell me we have! It was like a scene out of "Mommie Dearest," but replace "No more wire hangers!" with "Crushed tomatoes" and you've got me.
I apologized and I'm hoping to take a Chill Pill.