A real-life "hold" button?

I guess it has to happen.  There's always a "worst" storm in history,  the stock market has its "worst" day.  Yesterday appears to have been mine.  According to M, anyway.
Per my husband, yesterday was the "worst" mood he's ever seen me in.  This, after 15 years together.  After planning a wedding, moving like a jillion times, two pregnancies (and I was NOT nice during those, for those of you who recall), and all kinds of other crap, this is apparently it.  THIS.  Me, right now, is as foul as I can be.  To date, anyway.
What prompted this foul mood, you ask?  Well, I kinda hate to itemize it, as it reads like the sob story of the problems of the 1%, but some will understand.  Perhaps just one of my grievances will resonate, and some of my readers will say, "oh.  Well.  There's THAT.  THAT would push me over the edge, too."
In no particular order,

• After a summer hiatus that started in April and ended last week, Bones has returned to TV.  Suffering from the inevitable "Moonlighting" downfall of the protagonists having sex.  But not JUST sex, no no.  They're having a baby.  That'll kill the sexual tension FOREVER.  Also, the writers seem to have killed off the main character's already existing son, just so he could concentrate on the new fetus.  Do they think I'm not paying attention?  Disappointment.
• My parents and my sister are in Hawaii.  My parents have been there for 3 weeks already.  Am I in Hawaii?  No, sir, I am most definitely not.
• I'm very disappointed that a potentially fun and interesting job opportunity did not pan out, through no fault of my own, but rather on account of the potential employer.
• In order to lose weight, I have decided to keep drinking down to the weekend.  It's making me cranky(ier).
• Politics--local, national, and global--make me ill. 
• The battery on my first generation Kindle no longer holds a charge.
• Sirius Radio seems to have decided to only play Adele and Coldplay.  On all 2,000 channels.
• The last two issues may not be so critical, except that Monday through Wednesday, my afternoons are spent in my car.  Not driving around so much, but actually just sitting.  In. My. Car.  On Mondays, S swims for an hour.  Then E for an hour.  On Tuesdays, S goes to art for an hour and a half.  On Wednesdays, S swims for an hour.  E has piano lessons for an hour.  In full disclosure, usually M takes E for the piano lessons, and that really helps, but this week, it's all me.  Which, as you can imagine, is AWESOME.  Especially when I hear "Someone Like You" for the fourth time.
• I need a haircut and hate the way I look.  I'm not whining about fatness or age or whatever.  I'm not trying to fit into society's stereotype of 'beautiful' or anything...bah.  Who am I kidding?  I wish I could look like a movie star. 
• My kids always bitch about dinner.  No matter what I make.  There's something wrong with it.  Too spicy, has chicken, too chewy, too many vegetables.  Whatever it is.  I'm sick of their ingratitude.  It's hard to cook five nights a week.  And I try hard and spend a lot of money and time doing it, and they're like blech.
• My kids are training to be attorneys.  Not that lawyers, as a whole, are evil or anything.  But I'm just not up for constant debate.  Sometimes the answer is "BECAUSE I'M IN CHARGE."  But no.  Last night, S gets up on the couch right between me and M.  Please move, says I.  WHY?  Because I was sitting next to M and I was comfy and now I'm not.  But I WANT to sit there.  And then, what happens?  I have to  yell.  And S looks at me like I grew another head or something, and sheesh, Mom.  I just wanted to sit there.
• Had a couple of fun nights out over the weekend.  But then some one told me that I made a big impression.  That I was fun, but completely crazy.  And I realized that apparently, people are laughing AT me, rather than WITH me.  And that makes me feel self conscious and sad.  Especially since it's coming from an academic.
• Every time S does something wrong, he screams, "BUT I DIDN'T KNOW!"  For example, putting the dog in the dump truck and sending it down the stairs.  Then wondering why the dog was avoiding him...."But I didn't know it would scare him."  No, really.  Dogs love being hurtled down 14 stairs with no restraint in a rickety toy.  S spills Kool Aid while jump roping on the carpet..."But I didn't KNOW the drink would spill while jump roping."  (See the attorney entry above.)
• E disappears into his room the second he gets home.  God knows what he does up there.  But he's not setting the table or folding laundry, or taking out the dog, or participating in our family in any way.  The result?  I have to yell at him to bring him downstairs for each individual task I'd like him to do.  "E!!!!  COME PRACTICE THE PIANO!"  After 30 minutes, he's gone.  "E!!! COME TAKE OUT THE DOG."  After 5 minutes, he's gone.  "E!  COME HELP YOUR BROTHER SET THE TABLE!"  After that, he's gone.  I've tried making the bedroom off limits, and compelling him to be with us, but that prompts the worst behaviour ever, and I'd rather he be away than fighting with his brother.
• I'm feeling rather hateful towards Mobile, AL.  When you're wretchedly miserable, sometimes it's nice to take comfort in your environs.  In my adolescence, I could always hit the beach.  Actually, the same in Chicago.  No matter where I go here, it seems the mark of close minded people has been left.  It's difficult to separate the town from the politics and the ickier of our fellow citizens.
• I'm not sleeping well.
• Some of my friends have let me down.  I don't mean like flakiness or verbal misstep.  As if I could judge anyone on those criteria.  I mean actually disappointed me.  Like I thought we understood we were necessary to each other's lives.  Like we were a mutual source of sanity.  And apparently, not.
• S was playing with a salt shaker while eating breakfast this morning.  (If it's not yours don't touch it--our household mantra, had momentarily slipped his mind.) And he rolled it right off the table into a million pieces and a mountain of salt.  Do I care that it's broken?  A little.  Do I care that I now have a lonely, mismatched pepper shaker?  Some.  Do I care that I've asked him a million times NOT to play with it?  Yes.  Do I care that he didn't apologize?  Yes.  Do I care that this reflects his lack of respect for my things, a lack of listening and following directions?  Mostly.  What pissed me off the most?  His immediate response, while the poof of salt was still hanging in the air, "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

I don't know if I need a vacation, a massage, a drug dealer, a prescription (legalized drug dealer), a foray into alcoholism, or what.  Strangely, M is relatively immune from my wrath right now.  So, it's not like I can point the finger at him and say, step up.  None of my gripes (except that he doesn't wipe the countertops, a trivial matter) is with him.  So what do I need?    I need to fix it.  I'm turning into the bitch from The Exorcist.  All honeybadger mean-ness.  Cruella DeVille.