No, I don't have that stomach bug that's going around.
It's PMS. It's not contagious, but at this point I'm pretty much guaranteed to ruin your day. The bitchiness. Oh, man, I can feel it bubbling up in me, coursing through my veins. Every single thought I've had today has ended in hatefulness.
My day has gone kind of like this:
I woke up after BoyWonder. I don't know why this irritated me, but it did.
BoyWonder wanted to do yard work. Less than ten minutes after I had gotten out of bed. It was twenty-seven degrees outside, and I hadn't had any coffee yet. So I tell him what I want to do, which is drink coffee until it's above freezing, and then I'd help deal with the piles of leaves in our yard, because I like to use them as mulch around my raised beds. They keep the weeds from growing there, which means BoyWonder doesn't have any reason to ever ever ever approach my garden with the weed-eater.
But BoyWonder doesn't understand. Even though we've had this conversation five times a year for the entire time we've lived here. I explain it twice, and stop the third time around because I can feel the hate trying to bubble up and out of my face and I know it's a stupid reason to be hateful. So I just tell him what to do. And then I sit down with some coffee.
Later, I go outside to see what he's done. Which is raking the leaves out of part of the path around the raised beds, moving all those leaves to another part of the path. ::facepalm::
So again, I explain what needs to happen. And he says "Why can't I just weed-eat that part?"
So I expend most of my mental energy trying not to scream or burst into tears or both. And I remind him of two years ago, when he weed-eated most of my flowers (growing INSIDE the flower beds, mind you), and also killed two melon plants with his stupid weed-eater. He still looks confused. I feel like I'm talking to a houseplant, and a little bit like I might end up in prison by the end of the day.
So I fix all the leaves. I'm still mad. Irrationally mad, over something pretty dumb. But still.
I come inside. BoyWonder says "WTF is your problem today?"
And then I word-vomit all over him, which ended up sounding something like: I'm about to start my period (maybe) and I woke up mad and I keep feeling like I'm going to cry and scream and act like a three-year-old even though I know it's ridiculous and I'm really annoyed that I can have the same conversation with someone five times a year for four years and they still don't understand a simple concept like using leaves as mulch instead of spending money on mother-effing mulch.
And then I told him to do whatever he wanted, but to not talk to me again until much, much later.
Other random things that are bothering me: my beard. It's growing at a faster rate than ever before. PMS brain says things like, "If you just light your face on fire, you won't grow a beard anymore, because scar tissue doesn't grow hair." But I don't do that. I just pluck it all out. Also, I'm having to pluck often enough that my skin is breaking out.
Or I could just be breaking out because I'm about to start my period. But I don't know that because I don't know what the hell my body is doing since the miscarriage. I don't know when to expect it. At all. And that makes me mad, too. Just get it over with, you know? Instead of knowing that I'm slowly turning into an evil, mean monster wife who cannot control her emotions.
So... That's how today is going. And I'm off work all weekend, so it should be super pleasant. ugh.
Also, cookies if you made it through this insane ranting post. (Although to be honest, there are no cookies here. I am, however, about to get up and make some toothpaste, and mix up some oil so I can get back to using the OCM on my face.)
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