I woke up this morning feeling the same emotional sludge I do after a night of drinking. I had one beer last night, so I doubt that is it. I found myself in the shower regretting a day I over-slept and missed a yoga class a friend was teaching five or six years ago.
I also managed to be extremely nit-picky about the fact that Casey hadn’t rinsed out the milk jug after using the last of it, and the fact that he had used my towel. What I would have said, were he not lucky enough to already be at work, ran like a crazed monologue in my head.
Ah, PMS.