[Insert Something Clever HERE]

Very sleepy. Want much cake.

Which, I suppose, is the sad denouement of PMS; after the rage and the binge eating, there remains only exhaustion and the passive desire for sugar. That’s probably because I ate most everything yesterday (which means a Boca Burger and broccoli, but it managed to feel like the world) and finished it off with some Snackwell’s Lemon Crème cookies. Like, an entire row. Know what it says on the back of the box, in itty-bitty Lilliputian print? “Over-consumption may have laxative effect.” Waa waa waaaaah!*

You can imagine the hijinks that ensued. Cookies were good, though.

Know what I forgot to mention when I discussed roommates and aligning cycles?** It turns out my Aunt is one of the unfortunate few who get pre-menstrual migraines. MIGRAINES. And she (ok, it’s not really her fault, but I’m looking for a patsy here) unwittingly felt the need to share the boon with me. Now not only do I have a haunted period, I get a headache that re-defines superlatives with every fourth Monday. So yesterday, instead of working out like a good little gym monkey, I found myself sprawled on the couch with a blanket and a hot towel over my eyes. The run to the grocery store (for the tasty and surprisingly colon-friendly cookies) was rescheduled until after the sun had gone down, and even then was made in sunglasses. Everyone I spoke with (very, very softly; muzak was too loud) was extra nice to me, but in retrospect, I think many of them thought I was blind. Luckily the headache has ebbed today, so that I may actually do some work at my job, in between the bouts of obligatory uterine unrest. Ow.

And to add injury to… well, injury, I have a short work day today so that I can get my six month checkup at the dentist. Because, really, why not have all possible pain on the same day. Get it all over and done with, and the rest of the year is yours for the taking. Or in my case, the rest of the day, where I can be seen shopping with my mother for a new wardrobe, sore gums and cramps be damned. I need clothes that fit before I start looking my age.

Beedoo’s Book Club:

Finished: Tales of a Female Nomad: Living at Large in the World. I don’t know what to say about this book. I liked it, but I had a few problems: It was a first person narrative, and needed some serious editing. Some bits read like Dickens: “I got up. I took a shower. I walked to the market. I bought peas”; world travel should be just a tad more exciting than that. I learned plenty about geography and culture, though, and I think that was the intent of the book, I just think it could have been written better. I would have been really gripped by it if I were thirteen, but I attribute that to the fact that Rita GG is a children’s author; it’s plain-spoken, but sometimes feels a little simplistic. The scenery and indigenous peoples are compellingly palpable, though—the descriptions and personal experiences are worth reading the book.

Book Rating: Five of six days I spent forcing myself to finish it.

* That’s a trombone-y sound effect of ironic, zany humor. Not me crying. It seemed unclear.
**Yeah, I’m asking you a lot of questions that you couldn’t possibly know the answer to, and which I’m just going to answer anyway. Dude. My uterus hurts.


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