Hormonal or Crazy?

You might know that when I am pregnant I have no patience for bad parking jobs that leave me little to no room to get my kids and myself in my car. I've been known to lick my finger and leave special messages in the dirt on tailgates of pickups and leave not-so-sweet notes on the windshields of minivans. Today, however, I took it to a whole-notha-level.

After my appointment with my psychiatrist (ironic, isn't it?), I returned to my car to discover that I had less than a foot to get Stella and myself in the car. My first reaction was to write the standard "dumbass" in the dirt on their windshield. I even did it backwards so they would have no trouble reading it while inside their car. Then I proceeded to try load Stella in the car, which was not an easy task and she was not happy about the wedging that was necessary to get her in her carseat. Neither was I. Then I had to try get my pregnant ass (and belly) in the driver's door. I couldn't squeeze in there, and didn't feel that "dumbass" was sufficient for my level of frustration. So I gave the car a few good bangs with my car door, hoping that would help make more room for me to get in my car (no, not really. I was hoping to do some damage.) . Didn't work. So I had to hoist myself up so my belly was at the window level (about an inch more room up there) and squeeze my belly and ass through the small opening. Similar to birth, I am sure, except with me and my car.  I was beyond pissed after that, and seeing that my earlier door banging did nothing to the piece of shit car next to me made me even more mad. So I went at it again, except this time from inside my car with a little more force. Repeatedly. The guy sitting in his parked car diagonal from me was chuckling while watching me lose my temper and I ended up leaving more pissed off than relieved because after all the work I just went through to try do SOMETHING to that damn car, it was such a POS that if I did do something, you couldn't tell. I left wishing that I had a baseball bat in my car so I could have at least busted a taillight or something. Yes, I realize that's crossing the line. And that's why I think I can categorize this under 'hormonal' and not 'crazy'. Crazy would be not seeing any problem with it at all.  And if, say, I did feel that way about it, I would never admit it!