This morning Evan woke up mad. Just plain mad.
He had the bright idea to do paperwork for our taxes, because that makes everyone less angry.
He asked me to come upstairs and keep him company in his office while he worked on the paperwork. First I was in trouble for playing the same Taylor Swift song over and over again. Next he was yelling at me because I was "stealing too much Internet" and making it run slow.
So I pushed aside my laptop and took a nap on the couch with Scout.
Then the last straw hit him. The code he had to submit whatever paperwork he had been working on for the past hour was wrong.
He shut his computer and stormed downstairs. Dishes were being clinked together, cupboards being opened and shut, the washer filling up with water, and the sweeper being run.
After everything quieted down I stumbled down the steps, slowly coming out of my stupor to find a spotlessly clean kitchen, living room, and laundry.
A little smiled tried not to escape out of the corner of my mouth as I asked: "Feel better now?"
"Yeah" he said with a breath of relief.
It was definitely funny, but also kind of nice...now I only have to put off cleaning our bathroom and bedroom! If I do say so myself, I've done an excellent job at that this entire week.
At least Evan is a productive angry person,
Why is it when I get mad I become a irrational, chocolate craving, couch potato?
The world may never know.