I probably cry at work at least three times a week. I try to blame it on allergies.
Last week I was folding laundry in the living room and DH turned on some crime drama - not "Without a Trace" but something like that. Some little girl goes missing in a mall and they're looking all over for her, etc. etc. Well at the end of the show they found her and she was bound and gagged, no pulse, and they just flopped her down and started doing all that CPR stuff that you can't do in real life (can't shock an asystolic heart, guys) but of course they revived her. She coughed and cried "Mommy!" and everything was rosy and I'm sitting there on the floor like one of the little Charlie Brown characters from the old cartoons - my head thrown back and tears flying off on either side! I was
bawling, ladies, absolutely beside myself. The whole time, I am thinking, "Jeez, woman, get a grip!!!" but I completely lost it anyway.
DS came up with a tissue and his doll and said, "It's okay, mama, it's just a TV show!" and gave me both the tissue and the doll. Then I really fell apart.
I swear, the more you have, I think the worse it gets. PLEASE don't get me started on the pregnant stray cat DH has been trying to lure into the house... I can't let him do it, we can't afford a cat and then her kittens, I have to say no, but then - oh, the
GUILT!!! 