Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde

Poor M. He's going through a rough patch right now. His wife, you see, spent her Sunday being a basket case due to fluctuating womanly hormone levels.

I knew it was bad when, at one point, he looked at me completely bewildered and tentatively asked, "What can I do?" and I had to reply, "Nothing. Because whatever you do, no matter what it is, it'll be wrong."

He's a good husband, M is. He's kind and patient (usually) and loving and supportive. He makes a mean dinner and keeps our yard looking like the outfield at Busch Stadium. He's a great dad and an all-around good guy. He puts up one helluva Christmas display, and he puts up with my crazy-ass mood swings.

So yesterday, as I alternated between sobbing and tearing his head off, he just sorta ducked and ran for cover. I think I saw him later searching for flak jackets on the internet.

Men, this is a message for you: Please don't try to figure out why once a month your wives, girlfriends, significant others, coworkers, whatever, go completely apeshit. We're the ones going through it and we can't even figure it out. It's an unsolvable mystery. An enigma wrapped in a riddle. And trust us, it sucks as much for us as it does for you. We know we're being completely irrational and we can't do a damn thing about it, which just makes it worse because, as everyone knows, a woman not in control is not a pretty thing.

The silver lining in this cloud ('cause you know I always like to look for the positive) is that, thank God, all the women on this good earth don't go through this all at the same time. That might be the basis for armageddon or something equally bad. Of course, what could be worse than armageddon? Every woman PMSing at once, that's what. It would be apocalyptic.

I'm feeling much better today, thankyouverymuch.

We've started our two weeks of self-induced fun, as we're between classes and things, for me anyway, are settling down at work. We're planning Date Night for us (dinner and a movie), and Date Night with Michelle and Ryan, who are open to trying new restaurants but, between the two of them, can't seem to remember names (they turned Boogaloo into "Booga Booga" and Yen Ching into "Wang Chung"...but this is why we love them). We've got a list of other friends we'd like reconnect with (Tammy and Garrin!) and things we'd like to do.

I decided again last night that we have too much crap. This is not a hormonal thing, although I must admit that the mood swings helped tweak this feeling (when I feel like my mental house is in disarray, the first thing I do is clean out my physical house). M laughed and said, "We don't have too much crap. How many times have we done this, this year?" I replied, "Only like once, because I've been too busy to do it, which means that we really have a boatload of crap that needs to be cleaned out!" My plan for this evening is to tackle the hall closet. I'm pretty sure there are monsters lurking in there now, it's been unattended for so long. Of course, they'll have to be pretty small monsters because there isn't much space what with all the junk that's been shoved in. How many baseball hats does one family need, anyway?

I realize that organizing the hall closet doesn't sound like fun to most of you, but it ranks right up there for me. I'll let you know how many baseball hats I find in there, and whatever other good stuff I discover.

Congratulations to Tiff and Doug, who are the newest members of the Married Folk Club. Marriage is about the best damn thing in the whole wide world (even though some days you feel like tearing each other to pieces and can't for the life of you remember why you chose to live with this idiot), and we wish you much love and laughter!