By Shannon Magsam
I woke up this morning and realized:
The B*tch is Back.
She always shows up on my doorstep with her red suitcase at the worst times: Before I head out to go swimming, on the day I planned to wear white pants, almost anytime I’m about to leave the state for a beach vacation. And this one time? On my wedding anniversary.
When she arrives, I always get super cranky. She’s the worst houseguest.
Always just a few days into her visit, I always notice that most of the food in the house is gone. ESPECIALLY the chocolate.
And since I’ve gotten older, she does that awful houseguest thing and just stays and stays and stays.
In addition to her inconsistent departures, she also never arrives on the day she’s expected. So I spend several days just waiting for her just to pop over any minute. All that waiting is exhausting.
You know what else marks her as a bad houseguest? Aunt Flo never brings a hostess gift. She just takes and takes like an energy vampire until I’m too tired to argue any longer about her irritating need for more chocolate or her insistence that we watch poor quality television shows that end up making us cry.
Well, not quite ALL of my energy is sapped. I often find I’m more argumentative than usual, alternately sobbing and snapping.
And can we talk about all the times my bad houseguest digs through the medicine cabinet in search of Midol or Advil? By then I’m ready for her to go. Just.GO.
And when she finally does indicate she’s about to leave? Just when I think she’s backing down the driveway in her Lincoln Town Car, she flounces back into the house to tell me one last thing.
When she finally leaves for real, I breathe a sigh of relief and get back to business as usual.
Just 28 more days (maybe more, maybe less) until the b*tch is back.
Shannon Magsam is mama to Ladybug (a salty/sweet tween girl who still likes things like superheroes and unicorns, thank goodness) is wife to newspaperman/entrepreneur John and is co-founder of nwaMotherlode.com.