I just composed a killer blog post. It was more of a rant, actually. Acerbic. Distasteful. Biting. Angry. Mean? Maybe, in parts.
Before I posted it, though, I decided to read it all the way through out loud, with the emotion I intended each word to convey. And guess what? As I read it, I sounded a lot like a little kid who didn't get a nap today and now needs to go to bed. Gone was the fitful, angry, pent-up emotion I thought I was experiencing. In its place was nothing other than a timeless, who-cares-how-old-you-are-sometimes-you-just-need-to-pitch-a-fit, tantrum.
So, I'm going to grab my pacifier (aka bite splint), my blankie (ok, I actually have two blankets that my mom made for me!) and a bedtime story (can you believe I still haven't finished the Twilight series) and go to bed.
By the way. . . The difference between being a two-year-old who needs to pitch a fit and a thirty-year-old who needs to pitch a fit? I saw it for what it was, and I spared the blogosphere the hysterics!