Nothing Clever Today
I had the bulk of my day today hijacked by fucking menstrual cramps. Fucking menstrual cramps. I feel cheated out of a big chunk of my Sunday, because I instead spent so much of it writhing in pain.
I woke up today and sneezed a bunch as usual. I got a Twilight Zone episode rolling (The Printer's Devil, it's a Meredith Burgess episode) while I got dressed to go out. Everything was dandy. Then me and Corey got in a dumb argument because he couldn't handle my opinion for some reason and had to argue it with me, because, as he says, "you say crazy things and think no one's going to disagree with you." I kept bringing it back up when he wanted to move on, because he didn't get why the fuck I was bothered. I had to explain to him that when he disagreed with me, instead of like, posing a counter argument and like, accepting my rebuttal for whatever it was worth, had to try and minimize my point out of existence. I don't really want to get into the specifics, but basically, if I have an opinion on a situation, arguing that "that's situation is so infrequent," is not, to me, an argument against, and instead setting me up to have to have my opinions be graded on his personal criteria. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, we talked it through, and he got what I meant and and apologized, and all was well after that.
Except! then we went to see Singin' in the Rain, and I was so damned excited, so crazy excited, that as the lights darkened and the previews began to play I was rubbing my hands together in anticipation. And you know what happened? I started cramping. Oh yes, this is when it all began, during my first chance to see an amazing movie like Singin' in the Rain on the big screen, my fucking uterus had to go and ruin the whole damn thing. And because I've been mentally preoccupied with a bunch of things this week, I forgot to bring any Advil with me, so I was stuck.
On the drive back home Corey seemed incredulous at my behavior. I was hunched over in the passenger seat, audibly willing red lights to change. He's a gay man who didn't grow up around sisters, so I don't expect him to have spent much time with women in the throes of some serious cramping. He was like "jeez, does it hurt that bad? I'm glad I'm not a woman."
Then I was back home, rolling around on my bed, hating life, when my mom called. I shouldn't have answered, but I did, because we're trying to make flight arrangements for Thanksgiving. When I answer she already sounds a little exasperated about something, and I told her right away that I was in some serious pain. She immediately starts in with the "you're supposed tos" (read: this is your own fault because you didn't...) and I can usually take that shit when I'm feeling fine, but when I'm actually bent over in agony that's the last time I want to hear about how I'm not doing anything right, so after cutting her off and trading a couple sharp comments, she told me I could go ahead and hang up, so I did. Well, I thought I did. I actually just ended up throwing the phone down instead of actually closing the phone and she had to hang it up herself.
Not much later she sent me a text telling me how many mgs of Advil I should take and her tip about using a heating pad, which is always what she says. Also to eat potato chips and cookies, but I don't really know what that's supposed to accomplish.
Anyway I called her back later after I felt better and all that got worked out.
I never got to make it to the grocery store, because by the time I felt better it was too late for me to talk myself into going out, which sucks ass because I am out of important things like milk and fruit. And I'm supposed to be going to the movies a lot this week to see the classic films at the Uptown Cinema (which where we saw Singin' in the Rain) so who knows when I'll make the time for groceries.
I also haven't taken out the garbage, or recycling (and I bet that fucking bin will fill up before I get out there), nor did I start any plotting for my NaNoWriMo novel. I was counting on having some of late Sunday afternoon to myself to get a move on a least a couple of those things.
Anyway, now it's late and I guess I should go to bed, though I don't know how soon I'll actually sleep. I think I'll put a talk-heavy episode of the Twilight Zone on.
I woke up today and sneezed a bunch as usual. I got a Twilight Zone episode rolling (The Printer's Devil, it's a Meredith Burgess episode) while I got dressed to go out. Everything was dandy. Then me and Corey got in a dumb argument because he couldn't handle my opinion for some reason and had to argue it with me, because, as he says, "you say crazy things and think no one's going to disagree with you." I kept bringing it back up when he wanted to move on, because he didn't get why the fuck I was bothered. I had to explain to him that when he disagreed with me, instead of like, posing a counter argument and like, accepting my rebuttal for whatever it was worth, had to try and minimize my point out of existence. I don't really want to get into the specifics, but basically, if I have an opinion on a situation, arguing that "that's situation is so infrequent," is not, to me, an argument against, and instead setting me up to have to have my opinions be graded on his personal criteria. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, we talked it through, and he got what I meant and and apologized, and all was well after that.
Except! then we went to see Singin' in the Rain, and I was so damned excited, so crazy excited, that as the lights darkened and the previews began to play I was rubbing my hands together in anticipation. And you know what happened? I started cramping. Oh yes, this is when it all began, during my first chance to see an amazing movie like Singin' in the Rain on the big screen, my fucking uterus had to go and ruin the whole damn thing. And because I've been mentally preoccupied with a bunch of things this week, I forgot to bring any Advil with me, so I was stuck.
On the drive back home Corey seemed incredulous at my behavior. I was hunched over in the passenger seat, audibly willing red lights to change. He's a gay man who didn't grow up around sisters, so I don't expect him to have spent much time with women in the throes of some serious cramping. He was like "jeez, does it hurt that bad? I'm glad I'm not a woman."
Then I was back home, rolling around on my bed, hating life, when my mom called. I shouldn't have answered, but I did, because we're trying to make flight arrangements for Thanksgiving. When I answer she already sounds a little exasperated about something, and I told her right away that I was in some serious pain. She immediately starts in with the "you're supposed tos" (read: this is your own fault because you didn't...) and I can usually take that shit when I'm feeling fine, but when I'm actually bent over in agony that's the last time I want to hear about how I'm not doing anything right, so after cutting her off and trading a couple sharp comments, she told me I could go ahead and hang up, so I did. Well, I thought I did. I actually just ended up throwing the phone down instead of actually closing the phone and she had to hang it up herself.
Not much later she sent me a text telling me how many mgs of Advil I should take and her tip about using a heating pad, which is always what she says. Also to eat potato chips and cookies, but I don't really know what that's supposed to accomplish.
Anyway I called her back later after I felt better and all that got worked out.
I never got to make it to the grocery store, because by the time I felt better it was too late for me to talk myself into going out, which sucks ass because I am out of important things like milk and fruit. And I'm supposed to be going to the movies a lot this week to see the classic films at the Uptown Cinema (which where we saw Singin' in the Rain) so who knows when I'll make the time for groceries.
I also haven't taken out the garbage, or recycling (and I bet that fucking bin will fill up before I get out there), nor did I start any plotting for my NaNoWriMo novel. I was counting on having some of late Sunday afternoon to myself to get a move on a least a couple of those things.
Anyway, now it's late and I guess I should go to bed, though I don't know how soon I'll actually sleep. I think I'll put a talk-heavy episode of the Twilight Zone on.