Hormonal Rampage

I just finished up an hours-long hormonal rampage and I'm tired now but I need to talk about it...

First, let me preface this by saying that I have been stressed out by Teddy's mysterious meningitis-like illness and I'm sleep deprived from staying up two nights in a row to feel his forehead every few minutes. Also, I am stressed because we are in the midst of a major real estate situation--we are putting an offer in on a crazy-expensive house and I'm not really expecting it to pan out, but it's stressful nonetheless.

Now onto the rampage...

Phase One: I had to take the two littlest kids in for checkups/shots today and when I was trying to get everyone in the car (which is parked in the garage)
A). The car was locked (in the garage!?)
B.) The keys were nowhere to be found
C). Don was the last one in the car.

So I start searching around for the keys, lugging the baby who is heavy (26 pounds to be exact) and I can't find the keys anywhere. The drill with the keys is that I always put them in a certain pocket of my purse and Don always puts them on the kitchen counter. They weren't in either place so I tried looking in other crazy places--no luck. By the time I called Don at work to scream "Where are the car keys!?!" I was already borderline hysterical. He sounded scared and said "Where they always are." Then I said "No they're not!!" and , I think, semi-hung up on him. I went on to find the keys in a weird part of my purse where they didn't belong and we were, of course, late for the doctor's appointment. It didn't help my fragile hormonal state that Gooser went all feral-child when they got to his 5th shot. He kept it together for shots 1-4 but then reached his breaking point. Can't say I blame him--that's a lot of shots! It also didn't help that it was about 10 thousand degrees in the examining room.

Phase Two: I'm cooking dinner (fajitas!) when Don comes comes and we're hanging in the kitchen discussing the upcoming real estate transaction, etc. Sidenote: for the past few days we've been having these awful little ants crawling around one part of the kitchen--I've put (and I'm not exaggerating) 12 ant traps down in about a six foot area and it won't stop them!

So at some point I say "I just don't know what to do about these ants." and Don says like in a real blow-off way "I don't know anything about ants!" Well, ok then!

Phase Three: I put the two little ones to bed and I can't find Gooser's blanket (that he needs to sleep) so I come downstairs to look.
Me: "Have you seen Gooser's blanket?"
Don: "I don't know anything about it! I have nothing to do with it!" And he like threw his hands up--like "don't even ask me!!".

So the emotional rampage began. I don't want to trash-talk Don, but I've been getting that "I don't know anything about it" answer too often lately and I don't think it's fair! Why can't he give me some feedback on the ants or the blanket's whereabouts? And why was that car locked and the keys in that weird place?

So then the rampage died down, but reemerged when I was trying to talk to my mom on the phone and I was about to discuss the details of the real estate thing (she's helping to broker the deal) when Don cranks up the t.v. volume sky-high ( plus it was an Office rerun that we've seen like a million times) in a way that was like "Get off the phone! I'm watching The Office!" So I hung up without discussing the deal and the rampage continued.

Everything is all fine and dandy now and he apologized--but I can tell Don thinks I'm crazy for getting mad. So, honestly--did I overreact??