30 Days Late and a Dollar Short

So I’m a month late.  I’m sure you all know what that means…

I’m super hormonal.  (Relax, that’s all it means.)

God bless my roommate.  He’ll be the first one to tell you that he’s not the easiest person to live with.  And if I’m sick, really tired, or if it’s “that time” then he and I run into problems.  But he was super nice last night.  He came home from work and I said, “I stepped on the cat today and it made me cry.”  And as I’m telling him about it, I start crying again.  He assured me she was fine.  But then I couldn’t stop crying, so I was crying for no good reason.  It was pretty pathetic.  And it’s all because of these damn girlie hormones.  I’m used to them coming around a few days before “that time,” but if I’m late, they don’t politely say, “Ah, running late, is it?  Just pop back later, shall I? Cheerio!”  No.  They stand around and wait.  And they have less patience than I do.

But back to the him being nice part… he made sure I ate dinner and then said, “We should curl up in bed in our pajamas and I’ll read to you.”  I gave him a look that made him say, “You’re thinking, ‘Damn Tim–you’ll make someone a good husband someday.'”  It’s true.  I was.  ‘Cause that pretty perfect right there.

And now I’m off to kick these girlie hormones in the ass with some computer-generated 3-D action!  I’m gonna go see Beowulf.  I figure if nothing else it will be fun to look at.  And the Cloverfield trailer is showing.  Bonus.

UPDATED 11/21 at 3pm to add: I’m not late anymore!!!  Whoo-hoo!  All systems normal.

4 thoughts on “30 Days Late and a Dollar Short

  1. Glad it happened for you. I'm currently in the middle of my time and it's making me more paranoid that usual. It's like no matter what Brian does, in my head he's either dead in a ditch or cheating on me. Luckily, everytime I talk to him, it's neither.
    What did you think of Beowulf? My parents said it was OK.

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