An emotional roller coaster ride with multiple stops for snacks.
What?! Amusement park food is good and good for you. Admit it. Greasy burgers. Greasy fries. Greasy funnel cake. Sticky cotton candy. You need something to chase down all that grease. And for dessert you can have a carmel apple. With sprinkles.
Excuse me. Could someone tell the ride operator it's time for another snack stop? NOW!
Okay, kidding aside. I'm having one of those nights where I'm mentally going through everything in the frig and cupboard. I'm tired enough that it can't be something I have to cook, but hungry enough that it could be peanut butter straight from the jar. The spoon is optional. Actually sex would be a damn good substitute instead.
How wrong is that? PMS is not a nice task master. And it’s far kinder to me than it is to the people in my life. My poor, loyal, devoted friends. Some months they deserve hazard pay and a medal of honor. Especially when they share the cookies.
Sorry for the rambling, but I’m really nervous about a medical procedure I’m having tomorrow and the PMS is taking advantage of that. Sometimes it seems to have a life of its own. Which reminds me. I’d better go feed it before it becomes really mean and nasty. Believe me, you do NOT want that to happen.