Cantankerous Little Stinker

I have been positively petulant today. I just asked Jared what "petulant" meant before I typed it. And while I was asking him, I wrote it in Microsoft Word and right clicked, then clicked on Synonyms. There were the following: huffy, snappish, irritable, grouchy, bad-tempered, ill-tempered. I read them aloud to Jared before he could respond (and I don't think he knew what it meant) and after I finished, he said, "You're talking about yourself, right?" So apparently I picked the absolutely perfect word to convey my ornery disposition today.
I don't know what it is. Don't ask me. I'm a woman. Don't we have a "Pass Go" card for being mean without reason? Isn't that, like, the stereotype of all stereotypes?
I just had to go give the girls kisses goodnight and Jared covertly read what I've written so far. As he was getting out of the chair to let me sit down, he said, "That's GREat." That's good. Maybe he'll get some kind of validation for remaining Prince Charming in the face of the red-armed Dragon. Early on in the marriage (all right, maybe it took me a couple years) I learned that you get in infinitely less trouble if you're mean AND you admit it. Keep in mind, I did not write and/or. Or either/neither. Or or/nor. Or northing of the matter. They have to come hand in hand. And who's not mean occasionally? Ok, so I'm trying to make it sound like it's okay and it's not. I'm sorry. Is there really anyone beside Jesus who's never mean? Maybe my Grandma Mayfield but I do remember one time she told me not to brush my hair at the table because she said it was disgusting and she didn't want hair in her food. I see the wisdom in it now and occasionally I'll put a hair on the table in the hopes that she'll get a kick out of me while she's on the Other Side.
I love my Grandma. One time me and Sarah were eating licorice (did you know there's a licorice that's spelled liquorice? I feel so sinful eating it, but it really doesn't have liquor and it's DANG good) and Sarah and I were just chewing it like normal. All the sudden we look over at Grandma and she's got these wide eyes and a huge piece of licorice (it was the gross red vine kind, so it doesn't deserve a cool spelling) that was sticking straight out of her cheek like it was trying to make it's own little flesh teepee. She was having the toughest time getting it unlodged, but when she finally did, she explained the problem, "I saw you two just eating your licorice so cool inside your cheek and I wanted to try it. But it got stuck!" She's so funny. And I would do these otherwise offensive stretches on these big balls with her in the morning when she worked out. And we'd laugh at each other. At first, the sting of death hurt. Mostly the lonliness and regret that I didn't go to see her one more time before the unexpected happened, and that she hasn't gotten to see the kids growing. But it's not so bad anymore and I know we'll be together again. It isn't so bad. So savor the time with your loved ones and thank the good Lord that he didn't intend for us to be lonely.