Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Grrr! PMS is a terrible thing. I'm hot. I'm grouchy. I have cramps. I want chocolate! It's seems as though life saves up all of it's blunders do dump on you when you have PMS, the precise time when you simply cannot handle it. Of course, these aren't really such terrible things, but they seem like the end of the world to those who are premenstrual. So the cat threw up all over the duvet cover that was washed exactly one day ago. So my husband, the dope, locked the door going from the garage to the basement--locked it from the inside-- so that I had to stomp around the house and fumble for my keys when I was in a huge hurry to get in and out of the house to get to swim practice. Speaking of swim practice, so what if the I'm-a-really-short-dude-so-I'm-going-to-be-a-huge-jerk-so-everyone-knows-what-a-big-man-I-am head coach won't tell me what the next set is going to be. Ok, that really does make me mad. Why won't he tell me? Why do I have to sit there like a bafoon when the kids are asking what they are doing next and he's off who-knows-where? Why can't I just know what the entire work-out is going to be in advance? Why? WHY?!! Why won't Top stop licking her feet? That slobbery snorty sound is driving me MAD! Once, during a particularly bad bout of PMS, I threw an air hockey puck at my roommate's head. Todd stalked out, I cried, and he returned with a tub of chocolate icing, got a spoon, and said, "Eat." Mmmm, it did the trick, alright. And that's what I'm going to eat RIGHT NOW!
