Here’s a list of this week’s peeves:

• Yes, I can probably build that website faster than you can. No, that does not mean I will do it for 1/16th of my stated estimate because you ‘think that’s what it should cost.’ I post my rates prominently on my business site; if you can’t afford to hire a designer, don’t hire a designer.
• That said, don’t come crying to me when your website looks like crap.
• Especially if I did do you a favor and make some tweaks to your site on the cheap, which is RARELY A GOOD IDEA, so remind me of that next time, yes? 
• Although sometimes it works out gorgeously, which lulls me into a false sense of security. 
• Dear Public: Maybe you do not use the same internet I use. Because my internet gives me the ability to fact-check, while yours apparently just supports every crazy-ass idea that comes into your head. You should use my internet next time.
• And on an unrelated note, having a long torso means low-rise trousers look terrible on me. Yet what is in all my drawers? LOW RISE, YOU HAVE WON THIS ROUND.
• Hair. Specifically my hair, and the fact that it does not do what I want it to do. Why you got to be like that, hair? I style you. I buy you expensive shampoo. What more do you want from me?

Oh, but it’s not all doom and gloom at Chez Cranky! No sir and/or madam, there are plenty of reasons to put on a party hat and dance like the devil, and here I shall enumerate:

• Easter candy. YES I SAID IT. Creme Eggs, people. I am just depraved enough to kidnap me a Cadbury bunny.
• My kid woke up in the middle of the night and said quite clearly “The dinosaur doesn’t eat that. Okay, mama?”
• Also: “Row, row, row your boat / gently down the drain…”
• Clearance at Target = closetful of cute clothes for me. Yay Target.
• I solved the Scone Issue that has been plaguing me and now have freshly-baked scones upon which to gorge. Burp.
• I have mostly wrapped my head around floats (in CSS). Shut up, it’s exciting to me.
• My new MacBook is all that and a bag of chips. It’s so sexy I keep having to stop myself from making out with it.
• I’m almost up to 80,000 words on my book.
• And stuff.

So, see, I am balanced. BALANCED I TELL YOU. Now be quiet: I’m hunting wabbit.