This lady sat next to me and Olive on the bus and she seemed so centered. She was, I dunno, 70? She seemed totally contented and neat, happy to be alive. I envied her. She is not, and has not been for quite some time, under the influence of ridiculous hormones. She is free from the chains of human reproduction, from the monthly ebb and flow of the menstrual cycle.
I don’t need to know what day it is in my cycle to know my period is rapidly approaching. I cant cope, I feel tired and fat, easily insulted and unable to concentrate. Emotional, exhausted, pissed off and weak. The house is unbearably messy, even though it probably isn’t. I cant differentiate between what is real and what is PMS.
At any rate, regardless of my foul demeanor, Olive and I got on the bus and got some stuff done this morning.
Paid bills, got a few groceries.
The two items I needed most I forgot, of course. Toilet paper and milk.
Now there is Sponge Bob and lunch, cleaning and possibly moving everything out of our bedroom so we can paint. The later is unlikely, I lack enthusiasm and energy.