“We need to kill all the cats.” “Huh?” I am lying on my side in bed, eyebrows so low that I can feel them on my upper lip. “WE. NEED. TO. KILL. ALL. THE. CATS.“ “You don’t mean that. You love the cats.” “4:45!“ “Hmmm?” “4 FUCKING 45 this morning Minuit with her fishy kibble…
I fucked it all up last January. That was when I had a sore throat that turned into the flu, that turned into bronchitis which knocked me on my ass for about two months and instead of pushing through as I usually would, I actually rested. Mostly on account of the fact that after walking…
I’ve got the PF. Plantar Facsiitis. I can no longer run. I mean, sure I could run if something was chasing me – or if a building was on fire – but I’d pay for it later. I’d get up the next day, attempt to stand on both feet and then collapse to the floor…
WARNING: I USE BAD WORDS IN THIS POST Fuck peri-menopause. FUCK IT!!! I do my best, I really do, I try to find the silver fucking lining to pretty much everything, but COME ON!!! I am sitting here drenched as I type. Because why? Because I had fucking Chinese food! Apparently MSG can trigger hot…
Heat and hormones don’t mix. I get mean in the heat. You know when you can hear yourself losing it? When vitriolic tones spill from your lips and you don’t even want to be around you? That’s me in the dog days of summer. The rest of the year I do my best to be…
You wake up in the morning and do the zombie shuffle to the bathroom. The light goes on; your ill-prepared eyes close – too much light, too soon. Your pasty mouth makes a smasking sound as you open and close it, you wonder what crawled in to die overnight. You stick out your tongue, making sure…
“I’m going to have a quick shower!” I say, heading up the stairs. “O….kay…” This from David in the kitchen, his tone oddly sarcastic. “Pardon?” I say – ducking down to catch his eye. “Nothing,” he shrugs before smiling falsely. The temperature in the room has dropped about 15 degrees. “Is something going on?” I…
“You’re telling me this is normal?” David asks. “Pardon?” I’m combing through my conditioned hair with my finger tips in the shower. I glance over at him. His face is the perfect combination of horror/disgust/concern. He directs my gaze to the shower wall, where I have been depositing my ‘extra’ hair. I shrug. “Relatively,” I…
WARNING: Feminine issues discussed “Are you FREAKING kidding me?” “What? What is it?” David looks into the bathroom from the hallway. He finds me on the toilet, scowling downward. I shoot him a look. “Seriously?” he asks. “Didn’t you just…?” “Yes. Yes I DID just… It’s been almost two full weeks – off and on.”…
I should have worn extra protection. I didn’t because it’s Day 4 – my feminine mystique slacks off by Day 4. Plus, my faithful Diva Cup holds a full ounce – I should be good. And yet… the squelchiness. I wince when I bend over to grab a paint brush… Oh, that does not feel…