Last night, I was speculating with Details (at work) about the interconnection between high libido and impending menopause. I mean, I'm old enough for the first whispering threats from my body, and I'm sure getting enough of the mood swings.
And there are days when I couldn't be convinced that thrice a day, daily, for months, would be enough.
Today, I am a prickly pear, irritable, ants under the skin, mess. I need to read back in my journal and start picking out the days when I can literally feel the internal chemistry cooking me.
It's one of those days were everything is just about guaranteed to hit me wrong.
I bowled well. Took four against vacant, all by myself. Bowled 18 points over my average today.
Some people know how accurate a measure that is for how bad I was feeling.
Knight even fell into a landmine: he asked me how the Angel disk was received last weeked. Buy hey, at least that landmine was a dissolve into quiet tears bomb, rather than a lash out in unreasonable anger one.
The guys at the Radio Shack were not quite so lucky when they wanted to reject my "Checks in the Mail" supplied, computer printed, check for payment of my account. I used the last check in my checkbook at Sam's. I already had the check I printed from Quicken made out to Radio Shack from yesterday. My alternate was paying cash. I told them if I had to pay cash to settle the account I would be closing it.
It eventually sunk in to them that the checks, with routing numbers, security features, etc. were printed by a check-publishing company for me, and that my computer program only filled in the payee, amount and date. And memo line with optional addressee detail. They've been burned by "Versa-check" before, in which the entire check is computer generated on safety paper.
Knight had me laughing at lunch.
Wanna be back there.
I'm just this close to smashing my car into a convertible full of rude young teenagers in a parking lot.
But nowhere near smashing anyone with a maul.
And currently, I have no appetite for barbecue.