I am going to blame the stupid, fucking Super Moon for my general malaise. Yep, you heard me right. Me, the woman who doesn’t even read her stars anymore is going to blame a moon for her heightened desire to swear much and rip the tiny purple flowers off her front lavender bush. Yep, I want to get those sweet smelling flowers and stamp on those fuckers. I am GRUMPY.

The crap part of blaming that stupid fucking Super Moon is I couldn’t even see it last night. An overcast sky prevented me from admiring its apparently amazing glow. The only moon I saw was when I heard a muffled “hey” and looked over to see my husband bent over with his pants pulled to his knees. I laughed, but secretly I wanted to run over and push him in the bushes.  
I’m not sure if part of my cattiness stems from the fact this time last year my “moon”was sitting on my throne of toilet paper (a prize of a year’s supply of Kleenex toilet paper) and just this week we used our last roll. 
Or if my foul mood is a reflection of the new stupid Mirena contraception I began relying on six weeks ago which has not only lead to a five kilo inflation of my weight, oily hair and bloating, but is also making me want to consume vast amounts of ice cream and wine. I am thinking that it is also playing a significant role in my heightened desire to watch Funniest Home Video clips on YouTube so I can laugh at other people falling over. 
Or perhaps I just need to get my bloody period. Yes, I chose to put those two words together to make you cringe a little, because that sums up my mood. I will not apologise for my swearing or for kicking a toy tiger in the head just for fun or my joy in picking out the better coffee, leaving the less frothy one for my husband. It’s the little things people. The little things.
Are you grumpy too? Do ever feel like this? Stupid, fucking Super Moon.

Now, piss off,
bigwords x