It is almost that time of the month again. Nobody wants to be around me and the feeling is mutual, but since I'm not independently wealthy a Criminal Minds marathon on the sofa isn't possible. Now is the time to double down on carbs, fat, and yellow peppers (I don't get it either, I just know they're like, twice as expensive as the green ones). Ordinarily you wouldn't eat like this because you wouldn't use the toilet in seven days, but thanks to hormonal shifts, it's smooth sailing in that department, just like the good ol' days! No getting up every two hours to pee, you're so tired you get that solid ten hours of much-needed sleep. Guys are more polite because you've shot up a cup size.

It's important to turn negatives in life into positives. So, Zeus forbid if you disrespect me in the classroom, on the road, or in the service sector. That progesterone-fueled torpedo of withering sarcasm is going to shut your party down real fast. When I owned my own business, all my aging accounts would be paid during this week. (Don't bother me next week, either. When I discover I've forgotten to buy replacement panty liners at one AM and have to improvise I'm not going to be any less cranky.)