Years ago, Jesse Anne O sent me the best valentine of my life. Behold!
Awesome? Jesse’s too kind. However, I AM consistently more sensitive at “certain times” of the month… no, that’s the wrong word. Irritable. I’m irritable.
Some people might find recurring irritability a drawback. For me, it’s a superpower; 3.5 weeks of every month, I’m a bit of a namby-pamby. As the song goes:
Bowing, scraping, nodding, beaming,
not an ounce of self-respect
Yes sir, yes sir, you’re so right sir
black is white sir,
‘scuse me while I genuflect.
Ah, but when “certain times” arise, I am just snappish enough to stand up for myself and speak my mind. Hulk smash!
Additionally, this irritability serves as a reliable indicator that the Crimson Tide is nearly upon me. I’ll be absentmindedly folding laundry or taking a stroll when I suddenly think “IF HE LEAVES THAT WET BATHROBE ON THE BED, I WILL KILL HIM SO HARD” or “SMIRK AT ME ONE MORE TIME, LADY, AND I’LL HURL YOUR PURSE OUT THE NEAREST WINDOW.” For someone normally mild-mannered, there’s no mistaking a change like that.
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks. May this not be a “certain time” for you and yours.