Sometimes I'm a bitch for absolutely no reason

I have come to terms with the fact that I am neurotic. Once a month. (The sole man who may or may not read this may want to avert his eyes now.)

There was this episode of Grey's Anatomy - not the one where Meredith turned an unnatural shade of blue or the one(s) where ten thousand different people slept with a McDoctor - but the one where there was this girl with extreme scoliosis who was a huge bitch, which I can relate to because she was in a lot of pain. Well, I can understand. After all, I still walk upright. Somewhat. My point is, however, that this girl finally gave Izzy a break and apologized. And Izzy said "It's okay, sometimes I'm a bitch for no reason at all."

There was something about that statement that rang true. I'll confess my bitchiness to just about anyone who doesn't avoid my eye contact. But I've discovered that there is an extra bitchiness associated with my period. ("Oh god, she's said it!" I told you to look away!) Last week, I was absolutely miserable. I was swearing at absolutely everything - the weather, the newest couple, my bed, my roommates, the weather again, the future, my lack of male attention, my job, everything everything everything. I was figuring that either, one, someone needed to admit me to a nice padded room, or two, it was just about that time again. That time when I move along down the road because I am just so goddamn bored with my life....

BUT I'M NOT. Of all days, today, a Monday, was quite delightful. Work was less than irritating. I went grocery shopping, and I cooked the best damn meatloaf dinner I've ever made myself, accompanied by some delicious wine. I held a perfectly civil conversation with my tight-panted roommate. I was only a few stitches away from finishing my knitted sock. Generally, the world was a grand place. And I realized what my problem was - hormones. Even outside of work, I cannot escape the wonders of chemical signaling.

I don't know what the solution is. I remember seeing an ad for some drug to help with some "terrible" form of PMS... and I remember laughing at the new condition the drug companies came up with to sell another pill. But maybe they weren't lying. Maybe I need some of those pills. Regardless, if you see me near a ledge or catch me with a sharp object, maybe you could just give me a simple reminder that in a week my life will go back to low-level hormone normalcy.