I am currently suffering from the worst period in memory. No one likes being on their period. This is not an ordinary, crampy-and-grumpy, going-to-bed-early, solved-by-chocolate period, however. I am horrifically bloated, I've had a headache for 6 days straight, I am bone-weary all day long and too uncomfortable to sleep through the night, I am swelling in places no one should swell, and I have the emotional constitution of a piece of wet tissue paper. Oh, and my uterus itself has turned into the vicious enforcer of my biological clock, reminding me through STABBING PAIN every 20 minutes or so that I really should be procreating RIGHT NOW. If I'd only get pregnant, it wouldn't be taking this lead pipe to my kneecaps.
To give you an idea how ridiculous I am, and how SAINTLY Ed is to out up with me, here is a list of things that have either caused me to weep hysterically, have a temper tantrum, or both. On some of these occasions, I may have also thrown something.
1) Not being able to fit into the jeans I really wanted to wear that morning.
2) Poking myself in the thumb with a staple.
3) Ed interrupting the song I was singing along to and skipping ahead a few tracks on the CD.
4) Realizing I only had enough whisky for 2 mixed drinks.
5) Getting a blister from my awesome gold skull shoes. It felt like such a betrayal.
6) Forgetting to switch over the laundry before I left the house, and having to think about the damp laundry sitting in the machine all day.
7) Rereading the Prince's Tale chapter in Deathly Hallows.
Labels: Anxiety, Too Much Information
