One More Step Toward Crazy

I'm becoming one of those women who walk around the house muttering little complaints to herself constantly.

"What the hell is so hard about throwing the tissue box away when you've used the last tissue?"

"Why can't we just throw the afghan back over the back of the couch when we're done with it? Why does it get crammed between the couch cushions and left there?"

"Who made toast and left jelly and crumbs on the counter? Jelly and Crumbs!"

"Who in God's name left a banana peel on top of the trash can lid? WHO would do something like that???"

"I did."

"You know, it was more of a rhetorical question. I know it was me."

"Well, then why'd you ask, you weirdo?"

"I was on a roll. I'm feeling irate. By the way, who ate my Triscuits and left only two in the box? I'm the only one in this house who even likes Triscuits."

"Don't look at me."

"I mean, if you aren't even going to like them, why eat them? I like them!"

"Um...I'm gonna go watch TiVo. You're getting kind of manic."

"Ok. I'll come with."

"Does the remote go here? IN the sofa cushions? Does it??"