I can't thank y'all enough for all the encouragement and love that the comments have been chock full of since my paranoia post. I know that my "content" has not been very "content-y" as of late, but honestly, if you had this going on in your home all the time, you would talk about kittens all the days and into the nights as well.
My point is, I have been, let's say, lax with the real content as of late, and I apologize to those who come to this blog for more than pictures of kittens. Anyway, now that THAT'S out of the way, let's get to the rest of the mea culpas that I have to do since my paranoia attack.
I Apologize To: Mr. Monkeypants, for being a total and complete freakshow, most of which took place in my head, but enough got from my brain to my big fat mouth and my typing fingers to cause stress and problems that I apologized wholeheartedly for last night, but as we all know, I DWELL, so Mr. M, if you're still irritated with me, I don't blame you, and I'll buy you a unicorn or something to show my deep and abiding sorry-ness for being a crazy paranoid freak instead of a sane person who, you know, TALKED to you about my concerns instead of being all head-explody with paranoia. You're the best. Bee's knees, cat's pajamas, all that.
I Apologize To: Everyone on Twitter for my "WOE AND MISERY" tweets as of late. I have always been, shall we say, a TAD overdramatic, to use the kindest words, and I'm sure everyone is sick to death of them, and I am sorry, but my broken brain has been going cuckoo-pants but I think I'm over the worst of it.
I Apologize To: My dear Daddoo, who I surprised yesterday by showing up at my parents' abode with two sacks of laundry, one covered in cat pee, and to say I was in a foul mood would be like saying the Gulf Oil Disaster/Tragedy was "kind of an oopsie" and I ranted AT LENGTH to the poor man, who is a genius, but a man of few words, and he patiently let me shriek about how the cats ate my headphones and peed on my bed, and I am a moron when it comes to HTML and I cut my bangs too short, and Mr. M's car is busted and his back is busted even worse and everything bad is happening and now I will do fourteen thousand tons of laundry for free at their house because I am a BRAT and that means he gets to watch me sulk and pace their home for HOURS and there's nothing he could do about it, because: Cat pee. Daddoo? I'm sorry. I'm almost 33 years old and I'm still having temper tantrums in the vicinity of my completely innocent father, and that's just rude.
Is that enough? Probably not. If I offended/pissed you off/ irritated you in the past week, let me know in the comments and I'll apologize again. Until later, I'm off to stare at my too-short bangs until they grow back.