My ex-husband is a member of an old Scottish family.  Their coat of arms depicts a woman with one breast uncovered, holding a severed head, and the motto or caption or whatever you call it is "Gardez Bien" which means something like "Watch out" in French.  But why is it French if they’re Scottish?  And they are Scottish as all get-out, they have a tartan and everything. 

Who cares.

The point is that I am that homicidal barbarian today, sans bare boob.  Hormones?  IVF-failure-related anger?  Grief?  I don’t know.  All I can say is I can’t decide if I want to cry for another hour, or break things.  I belong in emotional quarantine.  If anybody needs me, which nobody does usually, that’s where I am.  It’ll pass.  But until it does, gardez bien.

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