Darling Ones,

Yesterday I zoomed with the Tea Ladies. When one of them told a story she introduced as bound to warm the cockles of our hearts I said, “I don’t have a heart. There’s just a crusty chicken McNugget in there.”

Last week when I was chatting on the phone with EM I shouted, repeatedly, “I AM FLOUNDERING.”

I am fucking cranky and miserable. And today it got even worse because not only do I have an excessively virulent strain of the Februaries my body is acting like it’s getting its period.

You know, that bodily function I haven’t had to deal with since April? It seems to be back and with a vengeance.

I spent most of today tipped over on the couch with cramps, a simultaneously upset & ravenous stomach, and a brain full of static & horny wasps.

No fair. I am fifty. This bullshit is supposed to be over by now. And really to strike now, in Feburary? That’s some extra-special bullshit.

I already have 438 things making me cantankerous and grouchy. I do not need any help from hormones and biology. FUCK ALL THIS NONSENSE.

Please send chili-cheese dogs & chocolate cake.

Thanks,
Jodi

P.S. Wanna know one good thing? On Friday, I’m attending a virtual talk given by Hanif Abdurraqib. I’m excited. I finished re-reading A Little Devil in America for the third time last month. I love that book so hard. I tried to read They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, but I was too fucking cranky to enjoy it. My life is garbage. for real.

P.P.S. Despite every thing I took on two new substantial work projects this week. I have a hard time saying no. I also have a hard time not being flattered by people who like what I do and want to work with me. That makes me feel good even when my uterus is being a crusty bitch. I’m not 100% sure what a “pick me girl” is and I’m too blech to google it, but I bet I’m one. All I want in life is to be someone’s first choice.