The little, mostly ignored, voice of reason is whispering in the back of my head, "There's no reason to assault the Starbucks worker for talking on her cell phone. She has a life too and you'll get your decaf coffee eventually. Plus, they'll call the police and it will be unpleasant for everybody."
And ahhhh... so quickly we've ventured to the central part of my crankiness.
The decaffeinated coffee part.
The NO CAFFEINE part.
For reasons I wont bore you with, I'm off caffeine.
And Diet Coke.
It's not going well.
The uncontrollable urge to reach across the counter, yank the cell phone from that teenage Starbucks worker's hand, chunk it across the lobby and yell, "You can talk to Lamont after work, it's not important if he loves you or not. NOW TAKE MY ORDER!"
The decaffeinated milk of human kindness has momentarily dried up here at Mabel's House. Heaven help Poor Matt.
PS. Know what helps a bad mood? Waking up and finding that Apartment Therapy not only actually read my house submission, but they posted pictures too! Now I feel a smidge jerky about my irritable behavior. I will be in a better mood now, I will be in a better mood now, I will...