PMS is real.
I could feel it coming on, but failed to do anything to stop it. Not that I actually know how to stop it, but it seems like sometimes, when my environment is less chaotic, the PMS can't get a foothold. Considering that every surface in my house is covered with crap, and Jack just knocked some of that crap off a shelf and busted Delia's karaoke machine, I'd say I was mired up to my neck in chaos right now. Several attempts to tidy things up were made, but part of PMS seems to be me looking at the clutter in my home and needing to sit down quickly so I don't throw it forcefully into the sink and set it on fire.
Husband washed dishes this morning, bless his heart. It was already too late for me by then. I do appreciate the gesture, in the small part of my mind that is hanging on to rationality, but when he said he was going to do some dishes it only made me want to drown him in the sink. I know that probably won't make sense to many people, but maybe some women who get PMS (or possibly any sociopaths who read my blog) will understand why I felt like that. And if you do, could you please explain it to me, because I don't understand at all. Normally I don't hate myself or other people for absolutely no reason. Deep breathing helps, a little, and I don't actually say the things I am thinking out loud (but I think somehow Husband and Daughter can hear me thinking them anyway, and that makes me feel even worse). They don't deserve to be on the receiving end of my bad waves, but I can't realistically dig a hole in the back yard and stay in there till I'm feeling more like myself.
We went to Big Lots for some Retail Therapy, but shopping while suffering from PMS is only a temporary fix. The only real damage I did was to bring home $45 worth of necessaries that I would normally have gone without, like giant black garbage bags which I bought so I could throw away all the offending clutter in my house (probably not such a great idea right now, at least I didn't buy a burn barrel). And the Fruit Chillers I bought for Delia and immediately was sorry about because OMG she wants to EAT them. Why do I suddenly feel that HFC free frozen fruit juice pops are the Devil's own Instrument? When I let her eat a can of spaghetti-Os for dinner, and half a loaf of bread. WHY? I think it is the PMS.
Not even half a bag of Salt & Vinegar chips and a Jumbo Margarita lunch could stop it. 3 episodes of Joan of Arcadia on SyFy helped a little, I could sob for a good reason. There might be some medical explanation as to why crying makes you feel better, but the feeling didn't last long. I made a bag of frozen snow peas, but Delia wouldn't eat them, so I ate them all. The rest of those chips aren't long for this world either. Who is this ravenous woman and what has she done with my self restraint?
I am putting the kid to bed early so this day can be over. If I am lucky there will be a really sappy movie that I want to see on Netflix Watch Instantly, and I can cry myself to sleep in a bed full of potato chip crumbs. Surely tomorrow I will feel better.