Debbie Does Drivel

This morning, I didn't want to talk to my husband. It had to do with a girl I find annoying, but trust me, you don't want to hear those details. (I'll write about them later nonetheless.)
He continued making entre vouzs about stuff -- like trying to engage me in a conversation and I wanted to one-word it.
Finally, he asked what was wrong. I of course said nothing. Of course.
A minute later, I cried.
The, I kicked it into high gear and cleaned the house.
Pretty. Moody. Sometimes.