You can tell it's PMS time when I sink to the depths of paraphrasing Sting. After the Department of Revenue, the office nurse, the insurance adjustor, and a host of others have delivered worrisome news about the state of my union - middle-class American that I am - I decided, what the hell, let's call the exterminator for a termite inspection.
He's due to arrive any minute, and suddenly I feel fragile. It's been three years, maybe four, since a professional bug man has crawled under my house.
Oh God, he's here. This is worse than a gynecological exam.
NTD
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1 comment:
Nothing like PMS to push you over the edge! Glad I'm no longer there but the Big M sometimes feels the same way!
Good luck!
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