It's the little things that make me snap. Yesterday, Chris made himself a grilled cheese and pear sandwich for dinner. He did this after he came home to discover that I had purposefully, and gleefully, devoured his gourmet mac and cheese leftovers from TGI Fridays. I watched him make his grilled cheese and pear sandwich- watched as he layered the sandwich with two slices of cheese, some sliced pear, two more slices of cheese, some sliced pear, and then two more slices of cheese. Six slices of cheese and what amounted to about two-thirds of a whole pear on two flimsy slices of white bread. He did this layering calmly and methodically, and as I watched, I was overtaken with a kind of rage. THAT'S TOO MUCH CHEESE, I wanted to scream in his face. IT'S NOT EVEN GOING TO TASTE GOOD! IT'S GOING TO FALL APART! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF? I CAN HEAR YOUR ARTERIES CLOGGING EVEN AS YOU STAND THERE MAKING IT. YOU ARE SO UNBELIEVABLY STUPID.

I didn't scream any of that. I managed to refrain from screaming, because I have excellent self control, and instead, I simply stated all of the above in my regular, everyday, thinly coated with bitchiness, speaking voice. That's too much cheese. It's not even going to taste good. It's going to fall apart. Are you trying to kill yourself? I can hear your arteries clogging even as you stand there making it. You are so unbelievably stupid.

And Chris, good-natured as always, just responded, "No way, it's awesome." And he took the sandwich, in all of its disgusting, floppy, oozing glory, along with a gigantic glass of red wine, upstair so that he could enjoy his dinner in peace while he watched the Cubs game. I stayed downstairs thinking about him enjoying his dinner- enjoying life, really- and I just fumed. I got angry and angrier. It was partly that I thought he was digging his own grave with every extra, unneccessary slice of cheese. Partly because I love him and worry about him and want to make sure he's taking care of himself. But, mostly, it was because he seemed so happy preparing his delicious little dinner. And I couldn't stand it. How do people walk around on this planet being happy with such small things while all around us, the world is falling apart? How can you deal with all the idiots at work and in traffic and- let's face it- at home without just fucking losing it? And how can you not be pissed off that someone ate the leftovers that they knew you were specifically saving for yourself? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE TO SO EASILY RECOVER FROM SUCH A THING?

Here are the things that you should take from today's blog entry.

* I'm a miserable person and do not deserve love.
* I am easily angered for no good reason.
* Chris should probably just divorce me and remarry someone nice and sweet while he's still young.
* I will eat your leftovers without feeling even remotely sorry about it.
* Six slices of cheese is too much cheese for one sandwich.