D'vorahDavida
Yetzirah

(I thought that had been settled a long time ago. You ARE, certifiably, a jar
of roasted and salted mixed nuts.)

I don't need your sarcasm today, thank you very much.

(Sorry)

Liar.

( )

That's better.

I am driving myself nuts here. And I blame it all on hormones. One day I
am crying into my cornflakes, figuring my life is over, and the next I am
running around the house, flitting from one project to another with
dizzying speed singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning", and making big
plans for the garden.

Think I'm exaggerating?

I just got up and went into the living room so I could hear the radio a
little better as O'Reilly was saying something I wanted to hear. Of course
it's hard to hear it over the music playing on the computer. . . (Jump by
Van Halen, . . .how appropriate) . So I had to jump up and go check that
out. It was a convenient excuse to hop out of the chair, something I felt
like doing 15 seconds after I sat down here.

Honestly, my nerves are vibrating, my mind races, and it's hard to keep
to one task. I feel like I have A.D.D. I never USED to have A.D.D.
I used to sit for hours reading in the daytime . . .(Oh those Barbara
Cartland days . . .) I used to sit for hours and do cross stitch. I used to sit
for hours and sew shirts for my boys. I used to turn the house upside down, clean it and put it back together before the boys got home from school. I used to take NAPS in the afternoon. Now I go to bed at 8:30 and sleep till, oh 1 or 2 at night and
sit bolt upright in bed, wide awake with an idea for a poem. I get up and
goof around on the computer . . .(last night I finally got my computer to
finish it's defragment cycle, how pathetic is that?) . . . Then I go back to bed around 3:30 or 4 and sleep till 6 and jump out of bed and hit the ground running, never
able to settled down all day long.

Until of course at 8:30 when I start to fall asleep over my knitting. Then I bolt for the bedroom with the hot water bottle, before I fall asleep standing in a doorway or something. I feel like at a certain time in the evening, someone drugs me while I'm not paying attention.

It's a vicious cycle that I don't know how to get out of.

(I am fighting the impulse to get up from the computer right now)

Impulse given into. I need a drink of water, or something.

Okay, I'm back. So I went into the living room and listened to Bill a little
more on the radio and noticed some flowers in the backyard, so I came
in and got the digital camera and went out there and took a picture of
them.

Here they are:

[album 65561 FlowersResized.jpg]

Don't ask me what they are. I planted them a few weeks ago and I threw away
the little ID tag. They were pretty and I bought them at Wal-Mart.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, A.D.D. Attention Deficit Disorder, Right?

I don't think that's what I have.

Whatever I have is caused by Peri-menopause. Which is really an
unsatisfying name let's face it. If I could say I was going through
Menopause, that sounds serious, and I might get some kind of respect.
But this peri . . . Doesn't that just mean "before"? Well I have been
"Peri" menopausal all my LIFE for crying out loud!

But during this "peri" time, I wasn't awakened at 1:30 in the morning
experiencing the scintillating thrill of a hot flash and having to get up and change my nightgown because it was damp with sweat. I used to have a damp nightgown for entirely different reasons!

A person could go NUTS from this stuff!

(I thought we had established tha . . .)

You are skating on VERY thin ice my snippy friend . . .

But no, I am supposed to just go on as if my life were the same as always
and I am just as capable and rested and responsible as ever, when in fact I am turning into a crazed woman who can't sit still all day long, and crashes at 8:30 and then sits bolt upright in bed at 1:30 in a sweaty nightgown and creeps around the cold house at night writing poetry.

I just got up and made sure the living room was still THERE . . .(It was.)

You know, I never DID get that drink of water . . .

I have to go.

Tomorrow I will post my crazed, peri-menopausal, hormone blitzed, night owl, poem.

(We can hardly wait.)