For the last few days, California has been experiencing unseasonably high temperatures reaching into the 80(F)s. Combined with April pollen counts, it makes for an unpleasant environment.
Now, Mrs. Snark lived in Arizona for over a decade, so she acclimates to the heat fairly well. Mr. Snark, on the other hand, overheats any time the temperature peaks above 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The man has one of the least efficient cooling systems ever designed. He's like an old Jag with a leaky radiator. The slightest amount of physical effort in warm weather results in beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead. He huffs. He puffs.
His mood blows.
He gets epic grumpy and externalizes his aggression.
So last night, the house was hot.
Mr. Snark washed a pot.
Mrs. Snark sidled alongside her husband. "Want to watch Vikings?"
"No!" He fumed. "I don't."
"BECAUSE, I'm not in the mood."
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Snark asked.
"I'm hot, so I'm determined to take out my bad mood on everyone around me. After I finish this pot, I will rip the wings off a butterfly, stomp on daisies, and take candy away from Miss Bear so she boo-hoos."*
*Not an exact quote, but I've captured the spirit of the matter.
"Why don't you clench an ice cube between your butt cheeks until it melts?" Mrs. Snark asked. "Maybe then you'll be less of an ass."