Hello, Old Friend

For the past few days, I've been feeling rather grumpy and twitchy and generally out of sorts. I've been snapping at Spiceboy and throwing dirty looks at Betty, whose biggest offense is wagging her tail and being adorable.  I'm restless, and I just want to be left alone. And the other day, I went to the bathroom and discovered I was bleeding.

"Something's wrong," I announced to Spiceboy in a tone that I hoped conveyed the gravity of the situation. "I'm bleeding. I'm going to have to call my doctor."

"Are you sure?" asked Spiceboy.

"Yes. I don't know what's going on with me. What if it's some sort of post-pregnancy complication? What if I have some awful disease?"

"Um, do you think it could be your period?" Spiceboy asked. He spoke carefully,  keeping his distance from me in the wary way one does when confronted with a potentially volatile situation, like trying to speak rationally to a very drunk person, or lure an angry cat out from under the bed. 

Ah, yes. All of the feel-good pregnancy hormones have officially fled my body, and it's back to regularly scheduled programming. 

Leave it to me to miss the obvious.