It’s official: this is the first cranky daily scribble.

There have been a few slightly ‘out of sorts’ scribbles and one where I was feeling sad, but this is the first where I’m feeling truly waspish.

Everything bothers me, from the dirty messy house to my sweet loving husband, especially his constant questions as to what’s wrong.

Does he really still not understand that ‘nothing’ obviously means ‘everything!!!‘  And that he should probably go into hiding for the next few hours until this raging fury within me dies down to a whimpering toddler (at which point he should be fully prepared with supplies of tea, chocolate, cuddles and a few puppy youtube videos).

Does he really still not know?

We ladies aren’t the easiest books to read, it’s true (and my edition could in fact be written in Mandarin Chinese as far as Alex is concerned).

And men are such simple folk aren’t they… they really don’t think about things.  Or just even just think.

They simply trot along in ignorant bliss, wagging their happy little bottoms, only to leap awkwardly aside with a yelp when our purring suddenly switches to a hiss, and a vicious swipe of our perfectly manicured nails narrowly misses gouging out their eyeball.

Somehow, it catches them completely by surprise every time, leaving them momentarily bewildered, uncertain, disoriented until they’re distracted by sport /food/beer/sex.

They are the jowly, slobbering St. Bernard.  We are the proud Persion Cat, wrinkling our pretty little noses in distaste as we watch them eating poo, growling when they clumsily career into us (yet secretly missing them when they’re gone).

And yes I just compared my husband to a dog but to be honest folks, that’s about as big a compliment as anyone could get, given I usually prefer dogs over people if I’m being totally honest, and you can’t get a creature with a bigger, kinder, more loving heart than a dog.

Or Alex.

I’m not feeling so cranky now.

Ciao darlings!

Lizzie xxx