that time of the month

I can be cranky and b*tchy any time of the month. And it makes me see red when people - especially men - assume that because I want what I want when I want it that it's "that time of the month." In fact, I hate that phrase. I shouldn't even type it. They generally think that it's because a woman is having her period that she's wound up.

Yes, hormones effect me. But it's PRE-menstrual syndrome for a reason, dumbhead.

Anyway, this week I got rude with the people at my credit card company, almost yelled and/or cried when I couldn't work out at Curves, and today I am gritting my teeth and trying to not yell at DH, who changed our health insurance.

Not mad that he changed it, which is actually a good thing, because nowI can go back to my doctor without paying full price for the office visit (luckily, I haven't been sick very much or I would have switched). And it's cheaper, though why it's suddenly cheaper than it was two years ago, we don't know, especially because we've added a dependent.

Individual insurance is a pain in the rear, I tell you.

I asked him a couple of days ago to find out our insurance number so I could put it on a field trip form (they're making us write it on every single time now) and this morning, I was supposed to take DD in for shots (no, I'm not arguing about this with you. Let's just say that Jim Carrey and whatsername the airhead chick from some freaking MTV game show for goshsake don't appeal to my scientific side. To any side of me, for that matter), and DH still had no idea of what our policy number was or how to contact Blue Cross to find out. So just before the appointment, I rescheduled (its own headache of me shifting the stupid cordless phone under my chin and hanging up and then the doctor's office putting me on hold and not getting back to me for five minutes so I hung up and called back). And DH finally came up with a number, though it's the same one as on our Blue Cross dental insurance, so it is possibly not the right number anyway.

Right, so I know it's not a big deal and the rescheduling was easy and I doubt they were going to make me pay for not cancelling earlier.

Which is why I am blogging instead of yelling.

And I just put an apostrophe in the wrong kind of its.

Time for babybel's happy nap. I'm going to go work out.