It’s Thursday! I almost skipped this week’s Lounge post as I have been dealing with Velcro Smushy and packing for Fiji (read that like this…packing FOR FIJIIIIWEEEEEEEE!) plus sewing another nautical bunting. (People, you read it here first. Nautical is on freaking trend. Get in on it.) But you see, I was desperate to participate in this week’s Lounge topic as it is one I am most familiar and skilled in…the tantrum. I can spit that dummy. Hard.
I am highly strung. And sometimes hysterical. But, and there is a big but, mostly I spit the dummy over things that matter; like sticking up for people or telling rude shop assistants where it’s at. I don’t like to see people disrespected or hurt. However, sometimes I am just highly strung and hysterical. I ran myself through a few memorable tantys I’ve had over the years and I simply couldn’t go past sharing the penultimate tantrum. The one that cost me more than my pride.
(If you were a reader of my previous blog, you’ll know this story so feel free to move on.)
Way back in 2010 I was turning 30 and had planned the party of the century. My 30th was to be an American themed extravaganza complete with a custom made cake of awesome. It was also a very large cake. And heavy. On the morning of the party I knew I was going to need help to go and pick the cake up and transport it to the venue. I couldn’t do it on my own so I simply assumed Spouse would assist. Wrong. Oh how wrong I was in my assumption. That night as we lay in bed discussing said party Spouse told me he was going to be playing basketball the day of. Huh? I explained I needed his help that day and the basketball could wait. Well. Back and forth we went. He just didn’t see my (clearly bloody right) perspective regarding the heavy fecking cake. So the rage built and feeling quite upset I stormed out into the lounge room and flung myself on the lounge. What happened next is kinda blurry, and I will maintain with my last breath that I was aiming for the wall. I proceeded to pick up 3 candelabras (I don’t even know why we had candelabras ?) and throw them AT THE WALL. Except the wall was kinda the TV. I clearly have terrible aim. And so our fairly new TV went poof. I won’t bore you with the ensuing aftermath but let’s just say Spouse wasn’t so happy.
In the end, it was all OK I bought him a new TV and he helped me carry the cake. The party went off and we declared a ban on candelabras in our household. But to this day I still feel bad about my tanty and I haven’t thrown a thing since. Honest. I keep my tantys strictly verbal these days.
PS Thank you to everyone for your lovely feedback on my post yesterday. I truly appreciate your support and hope you’ve enjoyed today’s change of pace.xx