Today I ran away.
First, I emptied out the area under the kitchen sink where mouse poop had been sighted and scrubbed and bleached and threw away things that had teeny tiny mouse tooth marks. Then, taking advantage of my rage-induced energy I dragged the fridge out of its bay and changed the water filter and vacuumed and cleaned everything. Whoa damn, it felt good to get those nasty chores out of the way.
The rage came from the fact that I was pissy about the taxes, and you know how once you are mad, you can be mad about everything someone has done since the Year Dot? Well, last week I was in bed and Thomas came in, turned on the light, and informed me, in a voice full of Portent and Doom, that he thought we had mice in the kitchen because he thought he saw mouse poop. To which I said, basically, "Yuk. Well, clean it up."
But no cleaning up was done and when I had a peek today to find indeed, mouse turds under the sink, I thought about having a hissy and screaming and stuff. But really, what good does it do? WAR! Whu-ut is it good for? Absolutely nothing! Say it again! WAR!
War doesn't help. Getting all Valkyrie on his ass about the kitchen when what I am really angry about is the taxes is immature and pointless (not that I can't do immature and pointless with the best of them). But I am TRYING to be a grownup and Use My Words and remember to breathe like we learn at YOGA. So, I asked him to go upstairs and finish the taxes and I tackled the Problem Areas.
And then I ran away. I took myself out to lunch, went to the library, read for a couple of hours sitting in my car. It was all very lazy and calming and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I came back with a much improved attitude to a clean kitchen and taxes that had been submitted.