I’m cross. Annoyed. Mardy. Pissed. I’ve go the hump. And I’ve got a face on.
I don’t know what the right words are in other languages but I’m guessing they’d recognise ‘the face’. My mum had a ‘face’. You’d know when she was cross. She didn’t have to say anything, it was just in the way she pursed her lips like a cat’s bottom and snarl ‘Nothing’ when you asked her what was wrong.
The trouble is, no-one knows I’m cross. What is the point of wandering around all day in a foul mood when there is no-one there to appreciate it? No-one there to be grumpy with.The person with whom I’m cross isn’t here. He knew I was cross when he left, and knows that it will probably have passed by the time he gets home.
To be honest, the thing I’m cross about isn’t really worth wasting my energy on. So why am I persisting in making myself feel miserable?
I’ve tried to boil it down to its essence, my crossness. I’m in a position where I have had to agree to something that I really don’t agree with. So basically, it seems like it’s ‘cos I’m not getting my own way.
Oh blimey, that’s not attractive is it?
Still cross though…