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2001-11-13 / 7:53 p.m. ~A combination of last night and today~ I bought a new toothbrush today. It's purple, curvy and sexy, and it's called The Wave. A box of Kleenex tissues, a special "Holiday" box, a beautiful illustration of Saint Nick, blowing a horn, and out of the horn are streams of confetti, and there are doves too, and it's all beautiful and colorful. It makes me happy every time I look at it, and I think how far away the very idea of Christmas is. I'm watching "The Blackboard Jungle" on Turner Classic Movies, and wasn't Sidney Poitier a beautiful young man, skin so black, eyes so piercing, cheekbones high and posture regal? I pause to rub Gladys' back with my foot, just above her tail, as she sits where the covers are turned back, down by my feet, and her whiskers are gone these days, but she doesn't seem to mind. Does she? There are little weevil-like bugs in the dust in the carpet by the bed. They lie there like pieces of dirt, specks of some kind, until I pick them up and they unfurl and begin crawling slowly, trying to get away. When I crush them they turn to dark dusty powder, and I feel guilty for killing, but it doesn't seem right they're here. I think of "bedbugs" and "biting" and imagine them crawling on me in my sleep. I should clean. I should be a housekeeper. After work, and on weekends, I should be washing and scrubbing and cleaning. Should. I wrote that last night. Now I'm at work, bored. I could read my Entertainment Weekly mags, or I could write, or I could chat, but I only feel like napping. Was it the chicken salad sandwich at lunch? Did it make me sleepy? I feel like I'm wasting time here. How is it that I've come here to work five days a week for almost four years? Wow. Such a waste. This can be one of those "later that day" kind of entries, sort of "and here's what happened next" stuff. Oh joy. Yeah, well, it's later, it's just after 4:00, and I have a headache, everything is irritating me, all sounds are annoying, scents are overwhelming, my coworkers' constant prattle is driving me crazy. Okay, sure, it's my period, my moon time, I'm menstruating, I'm on the rag, it just started, it's just beginning to get worse, and I should be at home, lying down, heating pad pressed against my lower back. I should be incapacitated, voluntarily, I should be coddled, waited on, catered to. What is up with those television commercials telling women they can get out and go sailing, swimming, run marathons, etc., when they're menstruating? It's not true. Not for me. And all those athletes, like track and field stars, wonder how they function when it's their moon times? They don't have moon times. Nope. All that loss of fat causes a cessation of menstruation. There's a name for it�oh well, it escapes me now. (amenorrhea) I participated in a PMS study a couple years ago, got paid and everything, and it required no medication (or I would NOT have participated!), but it was fascinating. I learned so much about my body, and my cycle, my PMS symptoms, and I can catalog it all, I HAVE catalogued it all. Right, so today, now, no longer PMS, but MS, it's pain, vaginal, uterine, it's low tolerance for noise, for smells (The popcorn someone just popped smells way too strong! Why have popcorn in offices anyway???), and a lack of coordination (I'm having a lot of difficulty hitting the correct keys while typing). And the headache. Ow. I also notice I hardly feel like writing lately. Just trying to figure out how to word thoughts is increasingly difficult. Everything seems so complicated, so tedious, so impossible to put into words. In fact, I'm going to stop this piss poor excuse for a diary entry right now�my irritability level has skyrocketed. Home, from the madness that was Publix on their Holiday Party day. The parking lot was PACKED. What a nightmare, but inside it was fun - a guy playing a baby grand piano, free food samples all the hell over, and a table with turkey and "the trimmings". I got in line, the wait not long at all, and had a little plate with a huge piece of turkey breast, gravy, dressing, green bean casserole, ham and sweet potatoes. No cranberry sauce - and I make a killer cranberry orange relish, by the way. Yes, I do. But hey, beggars can't be choosy, and all that, so la dee da. It was good. I feel like I ate dinner. I was in that place for almost an hour, well, maybe that's not including the parking lot fiasco. But still. A good time was had by me, dodging running children, and angry people, people there to shop, people seemingly pissed that other people were having free food, and thusly a good time. Imagine that. Now�ah�home, cats, television�relaxation amidst the pain of these cramps. It may be time to break out the Kava Kava again�.anyway, we have "The Gilmore Girls" (Yay!), "24" (which I've decided I can't wait to see now, got to find out what happens next!), and "Real World". A full night indeed. I'm off. Cost of the War in Iraq
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