Aggravation

Before Burningman I was in a local sports clothing store. While moving through the aisles a bikini bottom got caught in my handlebars and I inadvertantly stole it.

For the past whatever weeks, my mother and I have been doing a dance with it. I take it out of my room and put it someplace where I will see it. She takes it backs in my room and puts it (without meaning to, I'm sure) in some place where I don't see it for days or weeks. So it never gets back to where it belongs, in the Rockridge shopping district storefront.

I fucking hate it. It's like she doesn't fucking trust me to knwo what I'm doing, and she has to correct me.

Okay, I'm really pissed. Maybe I'm pissed about being in a chair. Or pissed at being second guessed, like I'm not a grown up who can make her own decisions. Or maybe it's fucking pms and all you guys, if you say a fucking thing about that I get to claw your eyes out.

I used to hope I was going through early menopause, because of shock. I think I have to give that up. Sure, I lost half my hair and it's growing back in much greyer, but I don't released from that fucking curse. (And I hate calling it "the curse" which showsyou how fucking angry I am.)