I am so not in a good place right now. I am in the middle of the longest, most soul-sucking bout of PMS ever.
And lucky for my husband, it's his birthday.
Two nights ago, he was relaxing on the couch, and I was sort of leaning over him. He looked deep into my eyes and said, "You want to wrap your hands around my neck and squeeze so bad right now, don't you?"
"Yes! But I don't' know why!" I answered.
"Because you can," was his response.
Rowr! He did something today that I thought was pretty sweet. Yet frustrating and fruitless. And I started crying.
"Aww, don't cry," he implored.
"I don't want to! I know it's not even real, I just can't help it. God, I hate PMS. Oh and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Poor guy. I'll owe him big when I'm back to myself sometime next week.
Tonight we have a meeting at school. So we're going to take advantage of the fact that we have a babysitter and go out for dinner too. It will be very nice to be alone with him. I hope I can refrain from berating the waiter, crying in my tortilla chips, and screeching for no apparent reason.
Happy 34th, Honey. I love you. Despite how it may seem.