Tuesday, May 10, 2005

You know what's really bad?

When your gay male friend who you barely ever see in person can tell just from your phone conversation that you are PMSing. Again.

When your husband is coming home after months of being away and you get to greet him with raging hormones, acne, bloating, and well...tampon stories. PMS: The gift that keeps on giving.

When you try to get some laundry done before said husband gets home and you find an entire load of his laundry at the bottom of your hamper. That stuff has been there since January 1. At least.

When you pull a muscle doing battle with another winged-bringer-of-doom (a.k.a. a bayou cockroach) who you had to chase around your dining room with a can of Raid and a combat boot. The fucker couldn't have waited one more day to put in an appearance!

When you want to thank and hug all of your supportive readers for everything they have given you during a difficult time, but you can't find the words. And you're too happy about your husband's imminent return to really think about it now. But I love you guys! I'm not sure I would have made it through even half as sane if it weren't for you.

***See you in a few days***

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