Ouch.

I sliced the shit out of my finger yesterday which led to an unfortunate bout of hysterical sobbing. Freaked out my son a bit. Felt bad about that. Yes, it hurt immensely, and it wouldn’t stop bleeding – damn thing is pretty deep and is still bleeding today, probably could have gotten a couple of stitches had we gone to the ER - but for other reasons, I just needed to cry. Hard and long. I had gone on a mad cleaning spree to let off some steam and I was working on the kitchen. (I do my best cleaning when I’m angry. Ha, you’d think my house would be spotless.) All was good and nearly done until I decided to cut up a lemon to throw into the disposal. The scream I let out must have been frightening. My man was there in a heartbeat, a millisecond, bandaging my wound and holding me while I sobbed. He knew I needed to. I left the shoulder of his t-shirt sopping wet with tears. He said something silly to make me smile. He always does.

I hate when I feel that way. I hate when I let stupid things that don’t really matter get to me. Things that matter so very little in the grand scheme of things that it’s silly for me to think, even for a second, that they do. Complete and total non-issues. But compile them all together and it’s just overwhelming at times. And my boyfriend, who is there for me every second of every day, just looks at me with those sad and loving puppy dog eyes, trying his best to comfort me and convince me just how little these things matter. Still, I’d prefer these things go away rather than have to ignore or just put up with them. I’m tired of putting up with them. So very tired.

Solutions have been decided upon and my finger will heal eventually.

Life isn’t all flowers and sausages you know.

(Big E and Ann Marie, that one’s for you.)