(no subject)

Typical Sunday night.

• Cabbit (me) staggers home from weekend work, wanting only to be left the fsck alone and unwind checking email, checking downloads, and then going the heck to bed before the vertigo sets in.
• Discover that in my absence, my computers have been mucked about with.
• Ask, in blunt and cold tones, why said mucking about happened.
• Answer arrives in the form of manufactured hysterics.
• Cabbit retreats to computers, attempts to reconstruct all the things that were in the midst, opting to avoid argument and not vent the growing irritation.
• Count Boobula appears in -my- doorway and restarts the argument, twisting things so that it's 'obvious' that it's all my fault.
• My temper starts to slip, and my response is sharp.
• Manufactured hysterics return with a vengeance, and I snap.

Tonight, instead of allowing her to escalate things, I cut her off completely and shut down her hysterics by cutting through with Command tones. Yes, it's capitalized for a reason, and those who're familiar with the technique can smile and nod. And finally she's retreated and I'm going to bed.

I'm beyond tired of this bullsh!t. I need to get off my arse and find out what the penalties are for breaking the lease...