And here I thought I was on the brink of full blown bi-polar. I had visions of cumfy couches, padded walls, fists full of drugs induced permanently mellow rose-tinted world.
First I was beyond ecstatic cause Ambitions came on Friday, so I pulled an all-nighter playing computer games. From 10pm till 6am. (I STILL haven’t recovered).
So that covers happy.
At the building site I threw the paint samples and brochures at Henk cause he didn’t give me the opinion I wanted regarding the bathroom cupboards. He’s known me long enough now to duck by default.
That covers angry.
After me apologizing, we’re cruising the streets looking at wall colours and gardens. (Outside wall paint never comes out looking like the paint chip you poured hours over contemplating just the right shade of sand with a hint of washed cement, and it still comes out peachy). Henk fleeted a comment about getting me streamline with all the garden work; and I burst into tears.
That covers self-pity.
Self proclaimed basket case!
Turns out it was PMS. who thought up PMT anyway? That sounds like a job title: Production Materials Technician or Promotional Media Telemarketer. I call it PMS, cause that’s what it is: Psychotic Mood Shift, Pass My Shotgun, and Potential Murder Suspect.
Now to wait out AF; then I’m going to try temping this cycle. I have a heap of opk’s left too. Hoping to catch the egg this time round!