Thursday, February 5, 2009


Don't you hate those days when your head is brimming with great ideas, and the world is full of possibility, and your morning is off to a great start, and you are showered and dressed (in a lovely, floral dress with black tights and high heels) and ready to take on the day, but there's an undercurrent of inexplicable sorrow churning somewhere deep inside of you, and you don't understand why it's there, but it's there none-the-less, and as your day goes on, the sadness persists, and even grows stronger, and you still don't know why you feel so sad, but then you realize that it's probably just because you are quickly approaching that very special time of the month when your body will remind you - in no uncertain terms- that you are not now, and may never again be pregnant?

yes, that was one sentence.
You can diagram it if you want.

I'm tired of working so hard just to feel like a failure at the end of the day.

Thanks for listening.

Please don't take this post as:
a) a cry for help because I'm thinking about ending myself at any moment. (I assure you, I'm not)
b) a reason to pity me (well, you can if it makes you feel better about your life, I suppose. At least that way my hormonal, irrational suffering won't have been in total vain)
c) something that I will be feeling or dealing with for more than, (It's the hormones...I assure you. But that doesn't make it feel any less real. Hormones are tricky little buggers...yes indeed.)

My Solution?
1. Bake fresh chocolate chip cookies and eat them hot out of the hot that they will burn the roof of my mouth if I don't suck in air as fast as I can after each bite (this will be nicely complimented by a big drink of milk, of course).
2. Lay on the office floor with Bubbuh and his sweet, perfect soul. Hopefully some of it will rub off.
3. Get.into.bed. I quit, Thursday. I quit.