Apparently I'm A Little Bit Stressed Out

Because I totally lost my shit this morning over a wardrobe malfunction.

Things started out badly when I woke up and realized I had overslept by two hours. I'm sure it was because I was super tired last night, due to spending most of the previous night awake with a case of acid reflux from fucking hell, and while I was lying in bed praying not to barf I started hearing noises and it was too late to wake up Captain Carl so I ended up creeping through the house making sure there were no ax murderers and then I had to feed the cats before going back to bed because they figured it must be breakfast time since I was standing in the kitchen holding a lamp (for protection from the maniac waiting to kill me, duh).

Anyway, back to this morning....so when I woke up, I had to stare at my alarm clock for about 2 minutes to process the fact that I was supposed to be walking into my office at that very moment. Then I jumped up, called the boss man and quickly started the morning shower routine. Things went okay for awhile after that because I'm thinking it's no big deal....by the time I get on the road, most of the bad morning traffic will be over and I'll have a short work day. The Captain comes in right as I'm finishing my hair to tell me he's taking the Kiddo to school and I tell him cheerily, "I'll probably be ready to leave right when you get back."

Wrong.

When the Captain gets back, all hell has broken loose in our closet and I'm right in the middle of a total meltdown. All because when I was getting dressed, I realized that the simple act of pulling a shirt over my head has fucked up my hair....it's sticking out at all angles and what isn't sticking up is hanging limply. No problem, easy fix. I rummaged through my makeup drawer for some clips to pull the hair back and that's when it happened. Somehow I got makeup all over my hand and then proceeded to rub it all over the front of my shirt. So I spring into action...

Okay okay okay, don't panic. Just wipe it off with a damp cloth. Shit! It's not working and now my shirt is totally soaking wet and stained. Fuckity fuck fuck fuckkkkkkk! Now what am I going to wear? My only clean bra is black and most of my dark shirts don't go with these pants and I don't have any other clean work pants! I'm totally screwed!!

I finally threw something on and was just finishing up when the poor Captain walked in, saw his wife standing in the closet buttoning up a sweater with shaky hands and crazy eyes and did what every good husband would do in that situation. No, he didn't laugh and point at me (but he probably should have, considering the freak show I was putting on). He tried to talk me down. But I wasn't having any of that rational stuff. My mind had flown into that frenzied, freak-out place that I hardly ever let it go to. I could hear myself yelling at the Captain about how I'm so stupid and I don't know how I even function most days and what the hell is the matter with me?? That's when the Captain wisely turned around without another word and walked out....and then I burst into tears.

Of course I apologized (twice) to the Captain before I left, because I realized even in the middle of losing it that I was being completely ridiculous. I just couldn't seem to stop myself. And now I've got a screaming headache, I was 3 hours late for work, I'm exhausted and I feel really shitty that my husband was witness to my bat-shit crazy act. And to top it all off, I'm wearing blue socks with black shoes.

Fuck.

Anyone have a spare Xanax pill?