SWB takes a tumble

I think my period’s due,’ I tell LSB, as he helps me pick up shards of the cat’s dish that I’ve just shattered on the tiles. ‘No shit,’ he says, taking the pieces out to the bin. PMT most definitely exacerbates my innate clumsiness.

After breakfast, I head out for my first run in over a week, after the virus that descended on our house like a Biblical curse. As my friends and I canter through Belvoir Forest, the autumnal glow makes my heart swell. The up-turned leaves of russet and red seem to catch every drop of light, despite the wateriness of the sun, on this overcast Wednesday morning. Feeling sprightly I make to jump over a large branch on the path, but my legs haven’t caught up with my brain; they’re all heavy and stodgy as though filled with thick porridge. I trip and fall, and lie sprockled on the forest floor, as two men with three dogs turn and look, to check that ambulances don’t need to be summoned. (I think one was worried I’d fallen over his Shitzu).

Up I bounce with an over jolly, ‘I’m fine! I’m fine! Nothing to look at here!’ I AM fine, just a bit shocked and sore of pride. My friends buy me coffee and we chat. I check I’m not bleeding and see I’ve just a scrape and the beginnings of a bruise or two. The Racing Retiree has been winning prizes left and right for her running of late, and the other one has been training up at the track . She’s like a whippet on speed, the way she motors up those hills. The pair of them are strong. Conversely, I have been lying around, trying to write, failing to produce anything of consequence, and eating buns. And then I’ve fallen over. I tell them about the cat bowl and how I took the elbow of myself on a door earlier. ‘So that’s the three things,’ I say, ‘So hopefully that’s my end of it.’

Now I just have the period itself to look forward to. Life just keeps getting better and better.

It actually does, because I’ve just discovered the blog The Midult.com and it’s bloody brilliant. Here’s a link: http://themidult.com/a-smoothie-cure-to-your-pmt-or-will-you-just-want-to-kill-it/

But don’t stop reading mine just because you’ve found this. I might come after you, and if I’ve PMT, God knows what I’ll do…. 🙂

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