According to my horoscope, the first part of March was going to really suck for me, and what do you know: my horoscope was dead on. Sympathy to all my fellow Virgo-with-Scorpio-Risings. Therefore it will probably be at least another twenty-four hours before I blog again to flog Wild Ride which will be out on Tuesday because snarling and ranting is no way to sell books and influence people. How bad has it been? This is what my current mental state looks like:

In other words, I’m ready to rip up your upholstery and devour your pet hamster. Whole.
Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll be back to my normal mildly grumpy self and we can go on as usual. At which point I will also be explaining to Sweetness that the white bookcase we’re putting in her room will not turn into giant flesh-eating bats at 3AM and rip chunks out of her arms while she sleeps, and that I only told her that so we could put the damn thing in there without her bitching at us. Sweetness has a dark side. But then so does Fake Aunt Jenny.