Sometimes you just have to compromise...

This morning I got up, I went to work as usual, and immediately upon my arrival I had to start watering, because in spite of the strong storms that have passed through here lately, we have to water daily because the plants come in on corrugated steel carts that don't allow the water to flow through the shelves... Its shitty.

Anyway.

So while watering all of our lovely plants, I was miserable with "woman problems." (Perhaps this explains why I was so anxious to stab that bitch in the face the other day... and perhaps this means I deserve a medal for restraint I showed.) And by miserable, I do mean MISERABLE. We're talking despite having a veritable pharmacy in my purse, and having many of those drugs coursing through my system, I was still hurting... BADLY.

So much so that I begged my boss to let me go home so that I could just curl up into the fetal position and die. Having sisters and a girlfriend, he was sympathetic to my plight... However, since it is Memorial Day weekend, ostensibly the busiest weekend of the whole year for the flower slingers, I had to strike a deal in order to get him to agree.

I told him that I would come in on Friday (which I was supposed to have off) and work the hours I was supposed to work today. Knowing how Memorial Day weekend is all around, and that I was in fact not scheduled for Friday, and I was offering to come in anyway, I think he got the general idea of just how bad I wanted to go home... And since I'd been watering plants all morning, I was miserable and soaked 3/4 the way up. And by soaked, I'm talking soggier than David Blaine. (I literally squished with every step.)

Needless to say, with a bargaining chip as big as offering up my Friday, I got to come home for my afternoon where I promptly proceeded to curl up into the fetal position and die... Fortunately for the few, the proud, my lovely readers, I only died for a few hours, and when I regained consciousness I found, much to my surprise, that I was not in fact dead, merely an alive, although pathetic heap of humanity that had merely been incapacitated by the crippling, debilitating pain that comes with being a woman. (SPECIAL SIDE NOTE FOR ALL THE FELLAS OUT THERE: Gentlemen, if you are reading this, and you have any women in your life, be it a wife, girlfriend, mother, sister... anything... Go track her down right now and hug her, and thank her for not killing you, when you behave like an utter doofus while we were/are in this condition. I can say this because I guarantee that at one time or another, while she was in that kind of shape, you did something that was undeniably doofus-like... You always do. You can't help it. This condition lowers our opinion of all humanity, so if you were only a doofus, you were doing pretty damn good.)

And so my lovelies, I bid you a fond farewell... At least for now, while I drug myself back into a spectacularly painless coma!