I’ve been stomping around all day long like some sort of evil, ill-tempered dwarf: Walking all flat-footed, so my little hooves make as much noise as possible, sneering at clerks and delivery people and my fellow Park Slope-ians and their damn baby carriages. Just generally, I’ve been unpleasant.
I figured it was because I woke up feeling a little crappy again, or because I have a wedding tomorrow and it necessitates my leaving New York proper and venturing into the wilds of Long Island via the LIRR (pronounced “lurrrrrrr”). I’m not an awesome traveller over short distances. Like, I can board a plane to Paris, no problem, and I don’t even speak French, and it’s not like it’s easy to get home if something goes wrong and blah, blah, blah — but I’m fine. In that case, you just surrender yourself to the travel gods and smile nicely. Short-term travel, though … ugh. All those train schedules and cars. I really don’t like to be too far away from the F train, if you’d like to know the truth. It’s like my mass transit security blanket.
Finally, the real reason for my crabbiness: I believe I have the PMS. It’s a little early, if so, but what can you do? Hormones wait for no woman.