The Modern Scot.

Today I woke up with a grumpiness of satanic proportions.

All the little, inconsequential things that maybe slightly irk me on a daily basis were exaggerated to a nigh-on-apocalyptic magnitude. So, for example, when my shoe fell off whilst stepping into the caravan, instead of simply picking it up and putting it on properly like I should have done in the first place, I picked it up and threw it at the ground again and then bellowed down on it, blaming it for falling off my foot in the first place. "Is it really that hard to stay on my fecking foot?! Ya stupid, lacy idiot!"

The rest of the morning played out the same way; shouting at inanimate objects. Things haven't even blown over as I sit here writing this - I've spent the last five minutes trying to murder a blue bottle who, in fairness, keeps walking around the rim of my mug. The last thing I want on lips right now is that winged idiot.