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Absolutely Nothing.
Mar. 16th, 2010 06:06 pmToday I just felt lacerated by the end of work. It wasn't work; I have an easy job and a wonderful boss who's reminding me of the ropes. It wasn't an immediate stressor; the house showing happened last night and we cleaned the place up for it in time, no problem. I have been consistently putting my foot in my mouth, being bitchy and grouchy and generally annoying to be around, I haven't been able to focus, and-- oh wait, my period is a day or two late. This is well within the range of things that have happened before. This is what happens when my body gets interested in someone and decides it's time to hold onto my proto-placenta and keep pumping out eggs till something clicks.
Sigh.
Ovulation is not my favourite thing. It's a lot of fun, but it's extremely difficult to calm down and think clearly during it. My priorities get totally weirded around. I can barely follow a sentence from beginning to end, let alone form one. Everything is either incredibly wonderful or unendurably irritating.
And in the midst of this, I am moving. In. With Angus. And my storage box. And consolidating stuff. And starting a new job. And seeing a new boy, which is likely the CAUSE of this but still makes things very complicated.
And to make matters worse, my poly guilt alarm is beyond hair-trigger right now. Well, everything is beyond hair-trigger right now, and awfully ridiculous and irrational.
Oh my gods. Even I'm sick of myself. Thinking about writing calmed me down; I have to observe and categorize my feelings to write about them, and that's useful. Hearing myself go on and on about this stuff is damned annoying. It's time to tag this post and then shoot it.
Sigh.
Ovulation is not my favourite thing. It's a lot of fun, but it's extremely difficult to calm down and think clearly during it. My priorities get totally weirded around. I can barely follow a sentence from beginning to end, let alone form one. Everything is either incredibly wonderful or unendurably irritating.
And in the midst of this, I am moving. In. With Angus. And my storage box. And consolidating stuff. And starting a new job. And seeing a new boy, which is likely the CAUSE of this but still makes things very complicated.
And to make matters worse, my poly guilt alarm is beyond hair-trigger right now. Well, everything is beyond hair-trigger right now, and awfully ridiculous and irrational.
Oh my gods. Even I'm sick of myself. Thinking about writing calmed me down; I have to observe and categorize my feelings to write about them, and that's useful. Hearing myself go on and on about this stuff is damned annoying. It's time to tag this post and then shoot it.
