Plainly; Men Suck.

PMS makes everything more intense in my world.

Everything.

I can munch my way through the contents of the fridge, finishing the gluttonous deed by licking my fingers and moaning with delight and/or guilt.  My moods become, well … moodier.  Where one moment I can be happily giggling because of something The Blokey is doing or saying, within nanoseconds I can be haughtily telling him that it ain’t funny, quit it!  I don’t mean to hurt him.  My body and mind become more lethargic than usual, and I tense up.  I open iTunes and find myself listening to Justin Timberlake or Avril Lavigne, through no fault of my own.  Sometimes my fingers may as well be doing their own thing, ignoring any signals from my brain.

At the best of times my concentration and memory are absolutely appalling, but when PMS toddles by they may as well be non-existent.

This Blog Now! page has been open all day.  And I do mean all day

So, I’m the person who regularly walks into a room and has to immediately walk out again because the reason for entering the room slipped my mind.  In truth, this often happens on Xanga too.   Opening a page and staring blankly at it for a while is not particularly entertaining, but my mind seems to think it is, such is the frequency with which it occurs.  I start doing one thing and often turn my mind to something else, which frustrates The Blokey.

I’m quite a stickler for routine.  It’s incredibly important to me that my days are mapped out – none of this impulsive behaviour for me, no thanks – and that everything is put in its rightful place [even if I’m the only person who is aware of the rightful place].  I also have OCD tendencies.  If the floor needs hoovering, it must be done NOW!  If we’ve watched a programme that was recorded through Sky+ it must be deleted off the box post haste or it looks messy and somehow that gets into my head.  I did lock the door didn’t I?  I can’t let The Blokey clean and tidy and cook and make the bed and hoover and dust and everything else, because he wouldn’t do it right.  He wouldn’t [and besides, he’s not complaining]!

So, you can imagine what life must be like in the World of Katiefinger in the run up to The Bloody Massacre.  Take a teaspoon of poor concentration, a dash of memory loss and a pinch of too much routine, shake it all up, and then wait for it to explode spectacularly.  Let the bedlam commence!

It’s pure torture.  I lost my rings on Friday afternoon.  I took them off to do the gardening, and they weren’t where they should have been when I went to put them back on.  After fifteen minutes of panic we found them in a place I never would have put them in a sane moment.  Yesterday morning I lost my phone.  It takes a long time and a huge amount of panic to find a phone that’s been hiding in Gym’s bag for two nights. 

It sounds trivial.  It sounds normal.  And in my world, it is normal.  But the intensity with which I lose things, both objects and memory, and the rate at which I forget something I did only three minutes ago, and the scary way I let my routine suffer … it’s bloody freaky.  Surreal.  I can’t even begin to explain it, really.  Still, at least it only happens for one week in every four.  And the other three weeks?  I can just about cope with the way my mind works …

Of course, drinking lots of wine doesn’t really help.

please God bless my memory xxx Elsabeth

12 comments

  1. Meanwhile, it’s the high speed processing of liquid by my kidneys (and the clumsiness) that gets me.  I am itching for my flatmate to get out of the bath so I can pee.  I shall stop waiting at 5pm, and knock on the door.  I think she’s gone to sleep in there… ~x~

  2. Wow, I can’t believe how many issues we have in common.  I am totally with you on the OCD thing.  As for my man and household chores, there are many things that I will ask him to help with but I have to remind myself that if I want his help…I can’t complain about the way he does it or get frustrated.  So I only ask him to help with little things here and there.  My PMS never used to be an issue, but the older I get…the worse it gets and more extreme all my symptoms are.  Oh no, I hope this doesn’t discourage you.  Hang in there!

  3. I think that’s me, too…Being OCD when you live with someone who is mildly clean isn’t so bad…but being OCD when you live with a total slob is a nightmare.  I have also spent many days with the blog page open just trying to think of something to say…anything.  I never used to have that problem.  I think I’m losing my mind.  Speaking of which, you are not losing yours…I don’t know how many times a day I have to retrace my steps because I went into the kitchen for SOME reason and for the life of me, once I get there, can’t remember what I went in there to get.  I guess it happens to all of us…but maybe we’re all coming down with Alzheimer’s.  Excuse me while I go have some gingko biloba or whatever that memory-enhancing herbal stuff is. 

  4. RYC:  I think he was only joking when he called her a “whore” but I sure didn’t find it very funny.  I think there is a line…and he crossed it.  I made him apologize to her no matter how ridiculous he felt apologizing to a toddler.  Being that our son has crossed that age where he is starting to understand what is being said, I think it’s time for him to straighten up and start being a better role model for the kids.  I think people sometimes think that the way I talk on Xanga would be the way I talk to my kids, but I wouldn’t dare call them “shit midgets” or funny names to their faces…However, my husband, being around foul-mouthed military guys hasn’t learned when to shut his mouth.  He’s about to learn really quick  Next time he talks to the kids that way, I’m putting their shoes on, putting them in the car and getting them out of here.  He’s got some growing up to do.  I don’t think he realizes what affect words he thinks are harmless could have on a child later. *shaking my head*
    On a positive note, my best girl friend is going to the class with me…so I’m really excited.  She’s more insane than I am, so it should be a good time. 

  5. Oh man, I forget things constantly…but I think mine’s more severe. I’ll be in the middle of a conversation and then all of the sudden I’ve forgotten the subject, the co-conversationalist, and probably my own name.It’s weird.

  6. I’m starting to get PMS too and I never had it before. Now I take that Lydia Pinkham stuff and actually, it does help. Hey, you gotta do what works.

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