pms

For the next 2 days I am designed to be depressed, puffy and mad. It doesn't matter what is going on. I could spend all day designing an imaginary aircraft fueled by an endless supply of fries or receive a memo from Margaret that an error has been discovered in the language of my contract: I'm supposed to be paid for NOT teaching. Even chanting the facts of my real life does nothing [cw: 110, diss: going great, hair: Feb. 2, sex life: yes], and plus I have bad dreams.