Feeling Wretched and Reading
It's a bad month. I fondly remember the years when I had no PMS symptoms or menstrual trouble at all. No cramps. No bloating. No crabbiness. Nothing. Now, I bloat almost every single month. My boobs hurt for at least three days before my period. I often get extremely grouchy every single month. I get super-tired too. About every three months, I get cramps and wicked bad headaches. This is one of those times. I've felt crummy for the last three days, and feeling overwhelmed about this marriage counseling business only compounds it.
Now today, it's hot. It's not just hot; it's humid. The sun just made its way around to the front of the house and boom� the clouds break up. I have the air conditioner set on 82. It's been on 82 for weeks, just in case, even though it hasn't been hot enough to turn on. It hasn't turned on yet. I keep contemplating bumping it down just a little bit. Heat and humidity don't do good things for an already crabby woman.
I slept in a tank top last night, because I was hot then too. When I got up this morning, I decided that I wasn't even going to change and just put on some shorts. I'm not even wearing a bra. All my bras feel way too small right now, and my poor aching boobs do not appreciate being crammed into them. I feel so white trash in my tank top and shorts, hair pulled back in a ponytail because my roots are showing, no makeup, sweating my ass off, no bra, not doing a damn thing all day. I just need a cigarette hanging from my mouth, a bad perm, and a baby propped on my hip to complete the picture. Luckily, those three additions are simply out of the question.
What I have been doing is mighty productive. I finished three books in the past four days. I picked up The Red Tent that day I had an itch to read something right now but by then, the feeling had passed, and I didn't start reading the book until the next day. The feeling never goes away for long. I really loved that book too. I heard so many good things about it, and I was kind of reluctant to get something so popular. I was wanting something different, something undiscovered, but those kinds of books just do not populate the shelves at your local Target store. I also seem to be reading a whole lot of books written by women, and though I like women authors and think women are great in general, I wanted a change. Do you realize how many of the best-selling books lately are from women? I couldn't believe how few male authors there were on those Target shelves. Since the pickings were slim, and I just wanted something good and not romance, I went ahead and grabbed The Red Tent and told the book, "I better like you," as I threw it in the cart with the cat food and dog toy. I did like it. I liked it a lot. In fact, I liked it so much, that I can't just slap one of those BookCrossing labels on it and leave it somewhere. I want to give it to someone. I want to make sure it gets in the right hands. I might even want to read it again. I was thinking about setting up my own red tent in the back yard where I could be lolling around this week, except that it's been a little too cold the last few nights, and I might get trampled in my sleep by the deer I see running all over the neighborhood. I bet that would make the papers.
I finished that book in a day, and since I had to wait at least two more days for the load of books John ordered from Amazon to arrive, I decided to root through my collection of books in the basement. I originally went with the intention of finding some more books to release for BookCrossing, which I did, but I also ended up finding a book I simply could not remember reading.
It was Open House. Yes, one of those Oprah books, but I got it because it sounded interesting, not for the Oprah seal of approval. In fact, I found myself avoiding Oprah books with great intensity after being thoroughly depressed from reading Jewel. I read She's Come Undone and Midwives and decided it was all a little too heavy for me, even though I liked those two books. Jewel just did me in. I read all these rave reviews about how real it was, blah, blah, blah, and I thought to myself, "I have plenty of reality and depression as it is." Good Lord, that woman reads a lot of heavy stuff. I can only handle so much darkness. Open House was a risk of more of the same, but I thought I'd give it a try. I wasn't going to avoid the book just because it had that big O on it.
I started reading it late Tuesday night, and I knew I'd read it before. At first I was a little let down that this wasn't a new discovery, but as I kept reading, I realized I didn't remember a damn thing about this book until I read through the words again. And as I was reading, I kept thinking to myself, "How could I forget this?!" I really love the way Elizabeth Berg writes and the way she is able to make me recall these same horrible feelings, even though I haven't been through the same situation. I got about halfway through it when I put it down for something else, something I normally wouldn't do unless I really hated a book, and I was on the opposite of hate with this book.
I promised someone I'd send her my copy of Lightning. I got it many years ago, before kids and marriage and quite a few boyfriends. I bought quite a few Koontz books at that time and thought they were just great. They've been packed in a box under our basement stairs for the past four and a half years with all the other books I own, unread since that very first time. I could only find the one Koontz book and was going to leave it somewhere in hopes that one day, someone will actually catch one of my books and report it on the site. But then I happened across someone looking for that very book, so it's heading for Canada tomorrow. As I thumbed through the book, I realized I could not remember a damn thing about this book either, and no wonder, considering it's been something like fifteen years since I read the thing. Still, I remember what some of Koontz's (is that right with the apostrophe s?) books were about. How could I not remember the very first one I ever read? Well, I didn't, and since I was sending it away, I thought I'd skim it to remember what it was about. I'm sure you can guess that I ended up reading the whole, damn thing yesterday. It made me wonder why I thought Koontz was so great. Though the story itself is great and thought provoking (not quite as scary as I would usually classify horror, but I don't know where else it would go), the characters are just way too stereotypical. The bad guys are cold and dark, while the good guys (and girl) are beautiful, charming, and perfect. The baby doesn't cry. The dad never loses his temper. The heroine makes men fall in love with her just by seeing her or by simply reading her writing. Excuse me while I barf. Maybe people who like romance can appreciate that sort of thing, but that isn't me.
Yesterday that big stack of books from Amazon came in the mail, and I'm so excited to have at least a week's worth of reading. They're all goofy Magic novels, which have been surprisingly good so far. Some are better than others; understandable, considering several different authors write them. I'll start on those today since I finished Open House this afternoon while doing my own version of the red tent and lie around all day.
I have a couple authors on my list, suggested by the wonderful Sally. I'll probably make a trip to the bookstore this weekend in search of those, because I can only take so much of a series at a time.
I don't know what my excuse will be once I'm not menstrual anymore. I always feel immensely guilty for reading during the day when there is work to do, so I don't get through them so quickly, not that I don't want to. I read every chance I get. I've been such a bore lately. I often have to go cold turkey for a while, just so I can redeem what little social life I have. Do I really need a social life though? Really?
One year ago
Counseling Irony - "As we drove to another counseling session, I asked John how much longer he thought we would be doing this." (A year later, that is more ironic than I could have imagined.)
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One Year Ago Today:
