Rage

So... writing seems to be essential when I am battling what I can only describe as The Inner Rage. This rage seems to be taking over me - and I think I have to Write it Out, rather than Ride it Out. Because the storm is a-brewing. So here I am. 

I've been thinking of Blogging it, for a while now. In fact, I had JUST decided to go for it and go on the website, when I found, much to my (almost-perpetual) chagrin, that Michael had set the security controls so high that I couldn't get on the website. I tried to sort it, he eventually sorted it, and then my laptop broke.  And since then the rage has grown inside me, but the laptop has been fixed. Today I found myself, once again, in the back garden shouting at the wheelie bin and throwing kids' bikes and scooters across the garden, which is now - like the house - full of kids' toy clutter. It drives me demented. DEMENTED. It was a bit embarrassing this morning to find that Gavin was actually in his garden next door, as I noticed his car boot open. Oh well. He's been married. He knows about the Inner Rage.

So perhaps this is one of the answers to my inner RAGE. I have to write and get it out. I have to somehow see the humour in all of this and realise that, yes, I am living in a real-life Cartoon, in which farcical events follow each other in rapid motion, and yes, I am becoming a crazy woman. There seems little doubt about that left. But surely, surely there is something I can do to make this a tiny bit easier. Is a blog the answer? 

Let's find out.