Well, it's been another ten days or so and no post here at the
Dept. Heavy sigh. I have absolutely No Legitimate Excuse other than Generalized Malaise and Slothfulness Overmuch. And Intermittent Crabbiness.
This Crabbiness thing is both perplexing and annoying. (Is that redundant? Is it sort of dumb to say that being Crabby is making me...Crabby?) I find that I'm irritated by being so irritated. It's a Vicious Circle.
(And for those of you who are nitpickily wondering if that last term should be "Vicious Cycle", I was too, so I checked--of course--and I'm correct.)
Anyway.
While other writers are using November to be Grateful or write a Novel In Thirty Days, here I sit, bitching and grumping. Maybe I need to get it all Out Of My System, once and for all, so I can Move On. You know, the whole Catharsis thing. So, here's a (partial, I'm sure) list of
What's Making Me Crabby
1. Seeing
'S Used For Plurals
2. Cervical Myofasciitis
3. Ohio Being Exactly Like Texas Anymore
4. My Grocery Store Remodel
5. Closer by The Chainsmokers
6. the republican nominee, ugh
7. Nothing Sounds Good To Eat
8. Cat Hair
9. My Left Contact
10. Not Sleeping
Let's chat about a few of these, shall we?
1. NO WORDS USE AN APOSTROPHE TO MAKE A PLURAL. Just let that be your rule, period. There is a sign on a bar near my house that says TACO TUESDAY--TACO'S $1. Every time I see it, which is every single day I drive, I have a small fit of rage/frustration. The same sign says GO BROWNS! Why no apostrophe there? Apostrophes on nouns show ownership. If something is not being owned, DO NOT USE AN APOSTROPHE. Are there odd exceptions? Yes, but for average daily writing, just remember APOSTROPHES DO NOT MAKE PLURALS. Just stop it, everyone. (Look at all those words that ended in S. Not a single apostrophe needed. PLEASE HELP ME.)
2. Now I know why my headaches have increased in frequency and my neck and shoulders are killing me. And why my sleep is almost nonexistent (see #10). **Breakthrough! This could explain my Crabbiness.** This also means Physical Therapy, which I find embarrassing and goofy. But I know its value. (See that "its"? NO APOSTROPHE.)
3. Ohio is pretty much a red state, except for NEO and Columbus. Ugh.
4. It now takes me twice as long to get shopping done. Why can they not remodel and reconfigure and restock at night and in ONE DAY? ONE WEEKEND?
5. I cannot escape this song and don't like it. It has made the radio almost an impossibility.
8. I really feel like some knitter person who is looking to spin his/her own yarn would want the surplus hair that my cats belligerently produce on an hourly basis. Really, it is lovely. And abundant. And, judging by the price of
this scarf, could be quite valuable, since it is a Natural Fibre.
9. I cannot see out of my left contact about an hour after I put it in. Is there anything more soul-crushing than sitting in a doctor's waiting room? This is why I cannot even contemplate making the appointment, though I know I must. (BONUS--SEE THE APOSTROPHE + S AFTER 'DOCTOR'? THAT IS BECAUSE IT SHOWS OWNERSHIP. NOT MORE THAN ONE DOCTOR.)
Sometimes, after I give vent to a particular bout of Crabbiness, Rick will say, "But you still look good." Even though this is terribly shallow and petty and even smacks of being sexist and sounds like he is trivializing my frustrations, I was the one who sanctioned this remark. Let me tell you why.
Firstly, I am incredibly vain, as most of you know. Secondly, when I go off on a Major Round Of Crabbing, it's usually about something trivial and timely, not Deep and Profoundly Personal. Finally, if I am not Effectively Derailed by something Pleasant or Light, my Crabbiness will take root and ruin the rest of my day/evening. The line has now become sort of a punchline to my bitching and gives me a chance to breathe and smile.
And I'm smiling now. That must mean it's your turn! (IT + IS = APOSTROPHE!) How about letting some of your Crabbies loose, and we'll have our own little Crabfest in Comments?
image
Act I, scene i. Rick and Nance are in the living room. Nance is on the couch, center, knitting; Rick is in his easy chair, left, folding his laundry. The TV is on. The local news is riffing on the pop news story about Earworms, the songs that get stuck in your head. 
