If Swears Could Kill...

Today was a very, very long day at work.
I got in at 8, and at about 3 this afternoon I started to realize just how much was sitting in my To Do pile and just how much more was coming.
Uh oh.
I decided to stay late to catch up on some stuff. I stayed till 8:30, bringing my grand total of hours for the day to 12.5 - groan.

Last night I didn't sleep fantastically, and I've still got this nagging headache from last week - so needless to say - by the time I left I was exhausted. The husband is working nights so I was planning on trying to force myself to bed early - like somewhere before midnight.
On the way home I was thinking about what I was going to eat for supper. We have NO groceries right now so I knew there was nothing much to eat in the house. But then Ding! I remembered the leftover pizza in the fridge from the other night. The husband had made his half with all these disgusting toppings and mine was just cheese - and he had eaten his leftovers yesterday.
I decided to stop at the pharmacy on the way home to fill a prescription for my fertility meds and had to wait another 15 minutes - so by the time I was done dilly-dallying around and got my ass home it was 9:20.
I walked in the door - changed my clothes, threw in a load of laundry, washed my face, went into the kitchen, opened the fridge...and nothing. No pizza.

What came next was a series of expletives so violent that I won't dare repeat them here for fear of causing someone a stroke. It seems that Christopher - my husband - had decided that even though he'd already eaten his leftovers, that he might as well eat mine too. He needed something to eat tonight - and he figured my pizza was fair game since I hadn't eaten it yesterday.
After another couple minutes of violent swearing I decided that I was so hungry I just needed to eat - so...cereal it was - Oatmeal Crisp. I poured myself a bowl, went into the fridge for milk...and saw about 1/2 a cup of milk in the bottom of the jug.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the moment that I started to cry. It didn't last very long, and of course it was peppered with more swearing - but I actually cried about having no milk. I only had enough to cover some of my cereal - which I ate hungrily.

It was just one of those days you know? I felt tired, I was cold, my head hurt, I had a ton of work to do, I was feeling a particular breed of ugly today - and my husband ate my $#*@ing pizza!

I'm miserable and it's time for bed. Goodnight.