I’m PMSing

My emotions have been high – I’ve started craving coffee and salty foods again. Looking at the calendar, this tells me I am in fact PMSing – george is due not this Saturday, but next. PMS normally begins up to two weeks out for me, because god hates me.

It’s after 3pm now and I’ve not started my workday. I’m in my pajamas. I started off the day badly. I forgot again if today was workout day with my friend or not, so I got up after 6 hours of fitful sleep, got ready and went to her house, only to find she never emerged to greet me. So today *isn’t* workout day.
Instead of going to work out, I came back home. I hadn’t wanted to work out today, anyway. I went dancing Saturday night and dancing always messes my knees for a few days. I was sore from that, and then on Sunday, I helped my friend sort through stuff in her house because she’s moving. It was labour-intensive, pulling stuff down from the attic, moving big boxes around, sorting bags and bags of recyclables that never got taken out, etc, etc.
So I was sore from that, too.

Oh and the george pains started again Saturday and Sunday. Mittleschmerz I think it’s called. I had to take 600mg Ibuprofen yesterday. The pains were shooting through my ass, and it was difficult to sit down. Then again, I’d had an espresso milkshake on Saturday – that’s two forbidden items on my list at the same time – caffeine and dairy. I bet that’s what set off the cramps.

I went back to bed after my man left for the gym this morning, and within half an hour, a car accident occurred right outside the house. The crash woke me up and I ran to the front window to see how bad it was. Old man in a truck vs. a woman in a compact. Both were ambulatory and exchanging info. But the sound was all it took to make me flash back to the car accident I was in back in 1994.

I tried to go back to sleep after pacing the house for several minutes. When I did get back to sleep, I had nightmares of magnitude 7 earthquakes and people being double-crossed; stabbed to death, poisoned, choked, and suchlike.

My phone woke me from my nightmares – it was my man calling to check in on me. This made me feel even worse – he knew I’d gone back to bed. This makes me feel even more like a slacker and a good-for-nothing to someone who already doesn’t trust me to deliver a business I said I would.

Of course, he’ll never say he doesn’t trust me. He’ll never say he doesn’t mind supporting me.

I feel like I’m just a sponge – the thing he’d feared in all women has come true. His extreme independence and materialism is compromised.

Sometimes I dream of being single again, because then I’d have nothing to lose and I could have my business, and do it right, and do it on my terms, in my own time frame.

But then where would I live when no money is coming in? Even if I were single, I’d still have to pay rent and buy groceries, and pay basic bills for heating and electricity somehow.

The short of it is that I need and want to be a dependent in order to get my business off the ground, and it’s not fair that no one is willing to play along with me on this. :p

Oh and don’t forget, I still have to plan a wedding.

I don’t want to get married right now. There’s too much going on without the hassle of a wedding – a wedding that to me is useless because we’ve been together for almost eight years. We’re already married in spirit. Why can’t he see that? Why does he need a $1,000 ring to show people that he’s married already?

That’s the other thing. I’ve had SO MUCH SHIT about getting a ring cuz all the rings I like are over $1,000. Then the ring he picks and HAS TO HAVE is $1,000.

WTF.

WHO’S THE GIRL.

I just need to go cry, now.


5:17pm Edit: Well, I didn’t cry. I whimpered a bit. Then I sucked it up, and started doing the chores I’d assigned myself to do today.
I called a friend, who said she will go to Berkeley w/ me Thursday or Friday to distribute biz cards.
I will distribute around town this week.
I will refresh my listings on the search engines.

I plug ahead even as the cord is about to be cut.

I don’t know why I bother.

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