I know you know I don’t really care for you. I know we battle a lot. I know it bugs you that I imagine you look like a bosc pear. I know you have this warped sense of the world. What I don’t understand is why you feel it is necessary to spring the monthly reminder of your existence on me whenever I get new underwear! Nice, brand new pair of underwear to be relegated to the ‘that time of the month’ pile in the back of the drawer. What is it with you? Do you sense the new panties and think it would only be polite for you to go introduce yourself to them? My panties don’t need to meet you! They can’t even see you! You’re tucked neatly inside my body. You don’t see my colon sending out a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ basket with every new pair of underpants, do you? NO! Good lord! I realize now that it is useless to track your activities on my calender, you refuse to listen. No, from now on I will just know that if there are new panties you’ll throw your usual fit and re-create the latest Rob Zombie movie in my pants.
I hate you.
Dear everyone else
I know i owe a lot of you emails and I am sorry. Someday. Soon.
So all weekend long I was beating myself up over the stupidest things. No one has a magnifying glass as strong as mine when it comes to finding flaws. over and over again I was forming entries to type up that were pretty much “the problem with me is…”.
I’m lucky, though. If I am sad or grumpy and I tell David that I just feel really unattractive he’s really nice about it. he doesn’t just tell me I look pretty or tell me to buck up, he says other things, the right things. He says the things that make me remember that I don’t always feel this way.
I remember that I feel this way whenever my uterus decides to stage a rebellion. This seems to happen every 28 days. weird.
I need to hang up my artwork and decorate my house now. I am missing a couple prints that I was sure I packed. Where did I put them? I don’t know. Fuck. I also need to go to IKEA and buy frames for things. My birthday card from Dena and Levi featured a dinosaur that Levi painted, I need to get a frame for that and for a few other things. I dread going to IKEA because I know I will spend money. Lots of it. I know I will be drawn to the section with the party supplies and I will buy them out of napkins and plates and geegaws to spread across the house. I know I will find more serving dishes to use at the party.
I know I should never go shopping with my hormones like this.
Tonight I plan to super chill with the dogs while David is out. Maybe lay out the stuff that needs to be hung up and figure out what needs frames. Who wants to go to IKEA with me and be responsible for my actions?