Note: This post was inspired by Judith Viorst’s book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, one of my favorites . . . since college.
This morning, I woke up and the laundry was piled something like up to the sky and I tried to find my favorite panties that don’t do that crawly thing but they were already mixed in with all of the other ugly underwear, so I had to wear my granny panties, and I hate my granny panties. “I’m having a bad day,” I said. “I think I’m a little hormonal.” But no one even listened.
Then I went upstairs because my boss said that I had to finish the budget report for the stupid meeting the next day and I sat down at the desk so I could work on it but then I found funner stuff on YouTube and Facebook and pretty soon had to go back downstairs because I was hungry and then I realized that the report probably wouldn’t get in done in time and I called my boss and told her that I really tried but it was too boring and she got really mad. She said maybe I should try the kid’s block on the Internet. “I’m just having a bad day,” I said. “One of those puffy and. . . .” But she had already hung up and I thought about calling her back so I could finish my sentence but I kind of thought her voice sounded a little bit like she didn’t care.
I think I’ll really like menopause—at least the “post” part.
So then I washed my black car and it looked so shiny and beautiful but when I was driving home, the sky spit out just the tiniest little dribble of wet and the wind blew a really big gust of wind so my car looked like a dirty smudgy nightmare by the time I got home from Octopus and I kind of started to whine about how my pretty car was ugly now except my kids were staring at me like maybe I’d lost what was already a pretty small brain, so I stopped whining and said maybe let’s go swim.
And swimming probably would have been a good idea except my stomach was the size of Texas which made me a little mad since I had been very careful to eat only the stuff my mom had told me was good for me so then I thought why not eat a quart of ice cream since I could see it didn’t really matter anyway and that was pretty fun—better than the swimming plan anyway, except that my kids made me share.
So then I called mom. “I’m having a no good, puffy, cranky and very hormonal day,” I said.
Mom said some days are like that. Even after menopause.