Now/here no/where woman

I have a five-step plan for beating the blues out of this drab Monday that is stretched out before me like an old, dusty, stinky, worn-out carpet. Step 1. Coffee Step 2. Writing. Step 3. Hot shower. Step 4. Get the errands out of the way. (Sigh. I hate this part, but I must.) Step 5. Go and be alone with a book somewhere I won't have to talk to anybody. Today's pick is Nomad's Hotel by Cees Nooteboom, who writes: "A way is away." Indeed. Now I shall get on with Step 3 and warily watch life get in the way of my plans.

Every month for about a week or ten days I'm prevented from biking by my female biological... erhm, functions . I used to subscribe to the point of view that having your period shouldn't stop you from doing whatever it is you want but as I've added years to my as yet relatively short life, I've found that it gets harder and harder to push my physical limits when my body's already working overtime dealing with hormones and blood and guts and all that naturally inevitable stuff. Given that pre-menstrual stress and post-menstrual stress are bad enough for us girls and the people around us, can you imagine what it's like for me and the people who must bear with me, not being able to bike only because I have my period? And to have the deprivation compounded by hormonal mood swings? It makes me grumpier than I already am. Oscar the effing Grouch has nothing on me when I'm ride-deprived. It's like the third day after you've quit smoking, when the initi...

It's raining! How unusual! How perfectly baguio-esque! I'm spending today at home, ALONE, in pyjamas with six albums of Van Morrison on shuffle and loop. I'm eating chocolate and cold leftovers, and writing all day. I refuse to brush my teeth. I refuse to change clothes. I refuse to drive for the Artist-in-residence. (Number 1 biker boy has agreed to do that, thank goodness.) When Van Morrison gets irritating I'll shift to Tom Waits. I'll drink as much coffee and tea as I like and then after dinner I'll switch to the bottle of Bailey's that we got for xmas. I'll have the Bailey's on the rocks. Now this is premenstrual bliss if there were ever such a thing. (Oh I hope the roof doesn't leak. Now that would really ruin my day.)