The right time of the month

It seems that I have quirky hormones to go along with the rest of my quirkiness. Maybe it's an age thing.

It's not all bad; for example, when suffering from PMS, I rarely become homicidal. Instead, I become clumsy and start losing interest in sex. So when I begin dropping things, I know that in a few days I'll be technically out of commission. And when that happens, the klutz factor disappears and I can sleep again, content in the knowledge that my libido will return in a few days.

But this month, the clumsiness hung on.  Flag day* is here and I'm still dropping cell phones, keys, makeup brushes and books.

And this morning I did a magnificent job of dropping a can of cat food after pulling the lid half off. It hit the kitchen counter and ricocheted back on me, hitting me squarely in the chest. I had cat food gravy all down my front and stank horribly, although the cats seemed to think no less of me. At least I was still wearing my Hanro nightgown - it's white cotton, so I can bleach it a bit if I need to.

* Australian slang for the first day of one's period.