I’ve always wanted to buy into the “menstruation is power” theory. I want to believe that my period makes me more powerful, more able to tap into the primal power all women have. I want to hang out with other women, discuss the sacred yoni and sew reusable menstrual pads.
Instead, having my period makes me irritable, emotional, paranoid, and a seething, whimpering ball of intense pain, accompanied by headaches and nausea. Not so much powerful feeling. In fact, the only power I have during this time is the power to make the architect walk on eggshells and be extra solicitous. Which is nice, but doesn’t seem to have much to do with the sacred yoni.
Last night, while whimpering on the couch and trying to use my power to send secret telepathic messages to the architect that he needed to go out and find me some chocolate before I imploded, I watched Buffy. Season 6. Once More With Feeling. And I cried. A lot.
So, today, I am at work. Trying like hell to be productive and get a lot done, because I really only have 1 week left to finish everything up. We’re moving in 10 days.
And I am not being productive. My brain is hazy. My body is achy and weak. I am tired and want nothing more than to either a) take a hot bath and drink some wine or b) take a nap. Option a) would be an excellent lead-in to option b).
For the next week, I have something planned almost every evening. And we’re still not packed. We need to cancel our utilities and DSL. I need to use all the great song suggestions I’ve gotten from people and make a new mix for the trip (although I’m not sure how well the architect will do with the ‘angry girl’ music). I need to do a change of address. I need to call all my regular people who send me stuff and give them my new address. I need to get thank you gifts to the incredibly wonderful women who threw me a really great bachelorette party. I need to get a cat carrier for cat #2. I need to get a job. I have 47 items on my “to-do” list at work.
I need to find a replacement for myself at work. I need to continue to NOT send snarky replies to people who send in applications with their “puppyphone” email address. And the people who don’t include a cover letter. And the person who mentioned her father in every single paragraph of her cover letter. And the person with the Ph.D. who was applying for an assistant position (because I’m going to keep doing all the Dev. Manager stuff, we’re just hiring an assistant). And all the sucky people who can’t spell. Or who use the word “entitle” when they meant “entail.”
And I need to take more Midol. Although I’m not sure why. It doesn’t help. What I really want is some morphine. Or just a nice narcotic that doesn’t make me sick (damn you Vicodin!). Maybe some Valium. Once, I had valium, and I still hurt, but I didn’t care as much. Although, I think I was rude to my mother on the phone, which is just uncalled for.
In conclusion: I feel shitty, and I wanted to share. So…um…yeah. Have a good weekend.