The kids come home at 2:30.
I sometimes don't get my head together until like 10. (Which is why my scheduled writing time is noon to 2; I don't know if my brain will be working by 10, but it's almost always working by noon!)
So imagine this.
You have a full-time job. However, you're expected to do eight hours' worth of work in four hours. And you have a whole bunch of extra projects with deadlines bearing down on you like a Mack Truck.
And then the Girl Scout troop leader calls and is like "Oh hai, I know you didn't know we were having a meeting today because I never tell you anything in advance, but we do, and we're having it in your workspace."
And you say "Oh hells no, because my workspace is under quarantine." Because did I mention that, along with all of this stuff you've got to get done, you have the flu?
And in the meantime, the kids are interrupting you literally twice a minute to ask why read as in just sit down and read your book is spelled the same as read as in I already read that book, and can feces come out of your cervix*? So you cannot gather your thoughts for long enough to write one single sentence, or edit one simple image file.
So yeah, this would be why I'm feeling homicidal right now.
Another location for the troop meeting has been found. The girls have been picked up. I'm just typing this so I can purge the frustration and maybe actually get a bit of work done around here.
* This question was actually asked. I'm not exaggerating for effect.