PMS for Christmas

Fireball Whisky

Fireball Whisky (Photo credit: Houston Marsh)

Today was the day.

The day I wanted to say, “I told you so”, to all of the cynics who read my blog about doing Christmas shopping extra early.

It was also the day I wanted to flip the bird to non-advanced-green-drivers and customer service teenloafs who work hard at avoiding customers or service, harder than they do at actually working.

It was the day I decided I’d rather chew glass than be in touch with the man for whom my fridge is filled with dark beer who makes me about as much a priority as clipping his toe nails.

But, having been a meditation and spiritual practitioner for years, I knew that the only thing to do to tame the PMS beast was to put my aggressive energy to work.  I decorated the house, scrubbed the bathroom, and put a roast in the oven, all in under two and a half hours. Yowsa mamma!

No matter what I do today, unless it involves a deliciously devilish drama on my duvet followed by a fabulous fling by the fireplace, I will feel less than sated.

So, being fully aware of my own limits, mamma has her hooch lined up for either a great read, or a totally indulgent chick flick. I also have a Mai-Tai mix chilling in case I need to prepare for a night of hot lovin’s with a long, hot, Leonard Cohen serenaded soak.

After the blinds are drawn, unless you come bearing your manhood under the mistletoe, or great gobs of chocolate and champagne, stay away, stay far, far away.

 

 

 

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