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I thought I was doing really well with mood swings, til Dave came home for his dinner break tonight.

I saw the dishes in the sink and was so paralyzed with feelings of overwhelming stress at the stack of dirty dishes that instead of rationally washing them, I turned the light off and ran away.

So when Dave got home, he got me on the couch, angry for no good reason other than I had eaten today, and that had created dirty dishes, and couldn't he SEE what was WRONG with that?? It doesn't stop. It NEVER stops. As soon as you have the sink clean, you get hungry. I will be 98 and still angry about this.

He trepidly asked what I wanted for dinner. Easy. I've been craving ravioli and homemade garlic toast. Easy enough. Only we don't have garlic salt.

We went through our timid dance of I-don't-know-what-do-you-feel-like-eating began, and we settled on cream of mushroom with soy crumbles and instant mashed potatoes.

Only he didn't tell me we didn't have cream of mushroom. But! But! Erin! We have cream of chicken! Tastes the same! Only, no, it doesn't. Because you don't put chicken and beef in one pot, so you shouldn't put cream of chicken in something that's supposed to resemble beef. And there weren't enough mashed potatoes for us both. And the sympathy soy chick'n nuggets were overcooked and couldn't be chewed through.

So I did what anyone would do. I grabbed my napkin, held it to my face and bawled. Uncontrollably. Because nothing's going right! And it's almost Thanksgiving and I want to see my mom! And the pile of dishes is bigger! And I have to go to work tomorrow! And none of my pants fit! And the mashed potatoes are getting cold! And I can't taste them because I'm crying too hard! And Dave wasn't helping!

Probably because he was scared to death. Hi, his wife just fell apart over her chick'n nuggets. He'd touch my shoulder if he weren't afraid I'd bite his hand off. He'd hug me if I hadn't put the kibosh on that for reasons you probably can only appreciate if you've been pregnant.

Poor Dave. He did an awkward side shoulder hug and a "shhh, shhh" thing, probably praying for the phone to ring or for a meteor to hit the house. It didn't, but I calmed down and ate and he grabbed his scarf and coat and kissed me goodbye sweetly, and then it was over.

I think he'll come back ... I hope so, anyhow. Cuz I'm not doing those dishes.

Written Nov. 17