oh hi, hormones

Last night, I am sorry to report, my man-hunk and I watched the Heat vs. Bulls game. Clint, bless his heart, did everything a man should prior to watching a professional sports game with his woman. He gave me kisses upon my return from work, had the house clean, cooked a delicious dinner, and bought me (of his own accord and from his own loving man-heart {and wallet}) a big drink from the McDonalds and two boxes of kettle corn from the source of our weekly yumminess (Kroger).

It was all going so well.

Until... the unthinkable happened. And I can't go into it, because I kinda made a pact never to rehash the events of that game ever again.

But the whole event was very heated at our home (minus a small bit towards the beginning of the second half when I had finished the big drink and popcorn and felt that I might go to sleep). At any rate, something I had cared nothing about initially became a frenzied life-or-death matter. Needless to say there was a lot of screaming at the TV screen. I didn't even hold back when Clint was chatting with my father-in-law on the phone. I continued my ranting shamelessly.

But you see, despite the disgusting display sponsored by the NBA that we had just wasted 3 hours of our lives on and that I felt we had been deeply wounded by the unfairness of this increasingly crooked world and had been dealt a heavy blow by The Man, I still knew deep down that it was just a game that I didn't care all that much about.

So I knew when I got all crabby and silent right before bed that something was up. But I didn't know what it was. Universe, give me a sign, I thought as I brushed my teeth. I tried to talk it out with Clint, see if maybe the anger really was because of the game. But he just asked "What game?" in absolute denial and continued to brush.

And the more I brushed and flossed and couldn't figure out why I was suddenly so aggrivated, the more my aggrivation increased. And my vision was clouded even further. I even missed the hint from the end of those yellow pills and the beginning of the little white ones.

And the husband! Oh, that sweet, smart man. He either was unawares of what was going on due to his own internal struggles trying to forget the soul-distressing game we had just witnessed, or he chose to ignore it for his own good. Either way, I am quite sure he had no idea why I went to bed all taciturn with my brow furrowed and my folded arms and my huffy shuffle.

Poor guy.

So, I'm sitting at my desk at work today pondering the mysteries of last night when it dawns on me that I did have a reason for being all flustered last night. I am not actually a moody sports-psycho. Just one of the billions of weary endurers of the woes of womanhood.

The fact is, Patty May Suckerson has come to visit. That punk.

I know she has to come---once a month for the good of my uterus and in the name of the Circle of Life. I know it, and I embrace it. But I don't like it.

However, now that the dark cloud hovering overhead has been identified, it doesn't seem so dreary. Isn't that how it always works? The worst part is figuring out what the bad things are. Once you know... they aren't good persay; they just have less badness, ya know? It's like in 4th grade when you learn about negative numbers. You can add some positives and some more positives, but until you hit zero--- you're still in the negatives, baby.

I guess the point is:

Husband- I am sorry for my grouchy-premenstralness, but can you bring me some more kettle corn and a large Diet Coke, please?

Oh and a scrunchie, please, before I get all hormonal and pull out my hair!

Oh, and I love you VERY much.

K thanks!