I did something bad.

Okay, I should start at the beginning.

Want to hear something fucked up?

Because my husband is away and unreachable, I had to text Patrick tonight and ask him, "Am I due for PMS?"

To which he replied, "Yes, actually. For the next five days."

That's fucked up! Right?

But it's most fucked up for my kids who have to live all alone with me right now.

Anyway, that started an evening of occasionally texting back and forth with Patrick. The first of which from me read, "God fucking damn iy! I knew you'd know. ROWR!!! I can be such a biych."

Oh, I should mention that the "T" key on my Treo is broken. For some reason it will only type a "Y". Ain't that fucking annoying?

Among Patrick's texts was one that began, "You won't believe where I am and what I'm doing right now!"

I don't know. Ay yhe Riyz geyying fisyed by Neil Payrick Harris?

That's a fairly common theme for us. (The texts, not the fisying.) Remember his evening with Debra Messing? Or Cyndi Lauper? Or that one night stand he had with...

Oops. I'm not supposed to share that.

These little adventures of his almost always happen on nights when I'm all alone at home, gorging on twice baked potatoes and waffles and feeling especially trapped and whiney.

You know what would go good with twice baked potatoes and waffles? Turkey bacon.

Where the fuck was I going with this?

Oh, yes! At least his confirmation of my hormonal state gives me an excuse for the bad thing I did.

Did I eat an entire cheesecake? No. But thank you for that guess, Patrick.

Did I sleep with the pizza delivery boy? No. But the pizza sure was good.

So I didn't eat something. And I didn't sleep with someone? What else could cause me so much angst?

Money!

I bought something. And you wouldn't guess what it is in a thousand years. I got caught up in a bit of a bidding war on eBay and I just had to buy it out from under the asshole who made an automatic max bid of $600.01. Fucker.

I bought a professional ice skate sharpener.

But hey! We only have to sharpen our skates 137.002 times and it will pay for itself.

Merry Christmas, Honey.

Shit.

I would have gotten less screwed if I was ay yhe Riyz geyying fisyed by Neil Payrick Harris. At least then I wouldn't have screwed myself.