Can't help lovin dat man of mine

Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly,
I gotta love one man 'til I die,
So I can't help lovin' that man of mine.

I'm normally a happy person. I am. Really.

But to say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning would be like...a major understatement.

Ugly. It was ugly. *I* was ugly.

Slammin things around. Yellin at the cat. Cryin. Undirected rage just zippin around the kitchen and living room, bouncin off the cowering cat and poor Ziggy, whom I was pointedly ignoring.

The thing is, I know it's hormone-related (fuckin menopause, anyway). I can no longer trust my body. It's like...I go to bed all normal and shit and when I wake up in the morning, I might be...somebody else. Or in someone else's body.

Aaaanyway, I knew it was hormones at the time. But there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. It was like a runaway train. Every little thing enraged me.

I hadda take a shower the minute I got up because...well...I had a little accident, ok? "Motherfuckinsonovabitchcocksuckerwhenthehellisthis shitgonna be OVER?...!"
The coffee pot was almost empty. BANG! went the cupboard door. There were like...two dirty forks in the sink. SLAM! went the drawer. The cat looked at me funny. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKIN AT?!"

I slam-banged around the kitchen, makin coffee, doin dishes (ok...the two forks), puttin last night's dishes away...all the while Ziggy is starin at me. I can feel it.

The coffee gets done, I grab a cup and sit down across the table from the Zigster and glare at him, fire shootin from my eyes and smoke comin outa my ears.

He looks at me, his bed-head hair all stickin up every which way, and sings...

"Good morning...good morning...good morning...to youuuuu!"

Which made me laugh. Then cry. 'Cause I was so fuckin mean.

And if makin me laugh wasn't enough, that man got up, left his coffee, dressed and went to the store and bought me tampons. AND, he bought the right kind!

What a man.

He's my bestest friend and lover. He doesn't bitch when I wanna redecorate...he even offers suggestions because, even though he's like...totally heterosexual, he's in touch with his feminine side. heh He gives me advice when I ask for it, but keeps his mouth shut when I don't...he never says, "What ya oughta do is..." He's kind and gentle and funny as hell. He's confident without being cocky. Well. Most of the time, anyway. He's smart and imaginative and he likes the same things I do. Except beets. And grits. heh He can cook and he can build things and he can make me laugh like nobody else ever could.

And he's not afraid to go to the store and buy me a box of tampons.

What a man.