(story abridged due to the fact that the author has PMS)

LAST NIGHT
9:30: PMSy but not yet bitchy. Happy with new template. Write post. Take nice bath. Go downstairs to clean up a little and take garbage out. Look forward to getting upstairs by 10:00 to read a book for a half hour. Look forward to getting to bed on time for the third night in a row. But wait. Let me get my keys and purse set out for the morning. Can’t find my keys. Start looking. (When I have PMS I tend to lose things.)

10:00-11:30: Looking for keys. Look everywhere. In toy boxes. Under coach. In the garbage that I just took out. Extremely unpleasant garbage search. We have a child in diapers. Am bitchy now. Close to weepy. Go to bed later than ever without finding my keys. Anxious. Tired. Have to pee about 5 times before I fall asleep because PMS puts pressure on my bladder. Wake up several times with anxious thoughts about anything that crosses my mind.

THIS MORNING
6:30: I’m up and looking for my keys but I’ve kind of given up. Husband is angel and doesn’t lecture. That’s good for him because I’ve got PMS. And I’m sleep-deprived.

7:10: Husband finds keys lying on couch. The same couch that I’ve already pulled out from the wall several time to look underneath. The same coach with the seat cushions that my fingers searched between many times. Those fingers found crumbs, but no keys. I’m grateful, but too tired to be really happy.

10:00: After exercise, mood improves. Husband calls to see how I’m doing. Mood improves further.

TONIGHT
Bitchy no more, but don’t you dare lecture me about my keys.

Honestly, though, PMS was never a problem for me before kids. What the hell is going on here?