Take the craft scissors away from the hormonal woman...

So, I had this grand idea to make invitations to our engagement party from scratch. I got some ideas from the interweb and went to the local Michael's to arm myself with the supplies. Once I got home, I realized that I was going to need more paper, so the next day I crammed another trip into my busy schedule. For those of you who aren't aware of the unparalleled joy that is the Michael's parking lot, let me put it to you this way: by "joy," what I really mean is "seventh ring of hell." Not only that, but I usually have to haul ass from work straight to pick up the kids from daycare, so I don't have leisurely errand-running time as it is. My second journey to the craft store was even better than the first- MORE cars in the parking lot! MORE people in line in front of me!

The next day I realized I would need stamps. I think my first thought was, "Oh, ef me." We're up to three trips now.

Once I had all my supplies, I started doing the necessary work on the computer. (I'm printing all the invite info onto vellum- the finished product is going to look something like this, but not exactly.) I decided that I hated the word processor on my computer, and decided to buy some software to make the job easier. That excursion officially marks my fourth trip on behalf of these invitations. Well, let's just say that the software, were it human, would not be invited to my BBQ. After I finally got the design tweaked to my liking, I printed a practice page out and was very proud of the results. I made one minor adjustment, loaded the printer with the vellum, and came back five minutes later to find five sheets of NOT WHAT I WANTED in my printer tray. I almost cried.

My poor sick almost-hubby is hanging out on the couch all germy and alone, and here I am fighting with my computer. Now that I've reached an impasse, I just want to complain about it because if I started throwing the tantrum that I want to, I'd wake the whole house/neighborhood/zip code and then where would I be? Plus, my throat hurts anyway. But for the record, I'm really upset.

I think what I'm most upset about, aside from all the time I wasted tonight when I had four zillion and sixty five other things to be doing, is the fact that I have to brave the Michael's parking lot again. And this time, I can't promise that I won't run over an old person. As a matter of fact, I can count on it.

Can I use "Road Rage" as a legitimate defense in court if it is premeditated?