Today is my day off and I had big plans for today. HUGE. Okay, maybe not huge, but I was gonna get stuff done today. Why am I not? HORMONES. Yup, this is a Period Post. Deal with it.

Okay, it’s still only 10:30 or so, and I DO have the whole day ahead of me still. The fact that I am in my bathrobe sipping tea and cruising the internet has no impact on my day what-so-ever. Right? Sure.


The secret to getting older is knowing yourself. And I know that the odds are good that a few hours from now I will still be sitting here in my bathrobe clicking away. And then I will hate myself because of it. Oh sure, eventually I’ll have to pee or eat something, perhaps an entire bag of chips with a side order of ice cream and bacon, and then I’ll feel even crappier than I already do. This will likely make me cry. Then maybe then I’ll get  up and take a shower and some ibuprofen, grab a heating pad and sit on the couch and drown my perceived sorrows in even more salt and sugar. Or I could turn into angry rage bitch and want to smash something. Yeah, good times.

To make matters worse, not only is there no bacon, but even if there was I’d have to get up off my ass to cook it., which is a pain to do. This is the great bacon paradox. DAMN YOU BACON!!!!


But alas, I have errands to run. The bank beckons, as does the pharmacy. I have laundry to do and a house to clean. I have lists to make and items to cross off. I have a closet full of clothes I started trying on and sorting last week and I need to finish that and put the summer stuff away. I see dust everywhere and it must die. I have photos to edit and files to back up. I have half started projects strewn about the house.



It’s days like this that make being a girl suck. I kind of wish I was at work on a day like this because I can’t wear a bathrobe to work. I do have a reputation as the strange one there, but wearing a robe might get more than just the side eye.

It is now almost 11:00 and I am no closer to getting any of this stuff done. Time to step away from the computer and hope menopause comes early, because Aunt Flo, I am sick of your shit.

This hormonal wallowing was brought to you by the letters P, M and S.


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