Jen to list seven things that make me grumpy.
From a veritable little ray of sunshine like me???
Wait a minute...
...maybe being made grumpy by being asked to explain my grumpiness has just become No.1 on my list.
Suddenly I'm in a better mood.
Absolutely loving physics but not being able to get my mashed potato brain around it.
I had a great physics teacher when I was at school, who managed, incredibly, to make it an exciting subject.
No food-stained cardigans and nasal hair for her...she was sassy, brainy and sexy, like the honey you add to porridge to jazz it up a bit.
I wanted to be her when I grew up.
Sadly, my enthusiasm for quantum theories was hampered by an inability to add 2 + 2.
They equate humour with shallowness, and regard happy people as deluded fools.
I love to read, and over the years have waded my way through sullen tomes just because I was told (by the Arty Clever People) that I "ought to".
But not anymore!
I have embraced my inner silliness and use it fiercely to whack about the head of Moroseness.
We all know life is tough, so laughter is a very serious business, not a light-headed whimsy.
I came to the conclusion many moons ago that the Triad of Impairments is a big pile of poo, and all it does is describe some of the characteristics of autism without delving into it's nature.
These days I describe autism as a sensory processing disorder, but I would love to be able to explain it in one sentence instead of making the person sorry they ever asked.
They're just stupid.
My love-hate relationship with fashion magazines.
I love fashion but hate that I am sucked into longing to be a clear-skinned, 6ft, size 8 super-model who falls out of bed in full make-up with artfully tousled hair.
My head (mashed potatoes, remember?) knows that it's false and impossible...especially for a fun-sized Irish gal whose skin varies in shade from anaemic to deathly blue, and who's rump would rouse any Mullingar heifer to insane jealousy.
Heifers are just so damn lucky they don't have to worry about shopping for jeans.
So, I love the clothes, but hate the falseness...and at the age of 39 I am sorry to admit that I'm still waiting to grow six inches.
It could happen.
When somebody says something cutting/angry/nasty my brain hits the disengage button, and I have a spinal reflex which persistently returns to my default position of Human Goldfish.
As in, my mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
In equal measure, grumpiness is elicited by people who respond with "Well, I would have said a,b or c..." when I tell them my tale of woe.
I quite enjoy being grumpy.
There's nothing quite as satisfying as a good old grumble about the weather, what's on TV or the price of eggs.
Basically things we can't change so are in no immediate danger of having to actually do anything about them.
It's a bit like armchair politics.
Right....grumpy interlude over...where's Little Miss Sunshine at??