Just when I thought menopause was done with me, it has reared its ugly head again.
I’m having hot flashes throughout the night, but not as I previously knew them. It’s hard to describe, but the type of sweaty heat feels different this time around.
While the burn isn’t the same, the wakefulness that it brings is all too familiar.
Between the lack of sleep and the rampant hormones I am VERY cranky about EVERYTHING.
I stomp and storm and snap and snarl and sob.
I now understand why teenage girls are so grumpy all time time and why they think everything their parents do is wrong.
Fortunately I am mostly by myself when I am carrying on because it’s becoming very hard to stop my eyes from narrowing when I am in the company of others.
The words FFS are on constant rotation in my brain.
I am really looking forward to the hormones racking off and leaving me in peace
And I’d like them to take this bloody rain with them.
Jaysus, it’s so freaking torrential.
My fury about the weather is exacerbated by issues with my roof. Within a week of me bankrupting myself paying for it to be repaired, one of the new pieces of clear corrogated plastic peeled off and is now hanging over the side of the verandah, banging on the fence.
Meanwhile, a brick from the eaves was dislodged and has now smashed on the ground, leaving an unsightly hole that I hope isn’t letting the rain in.
I have chased the roofing bloke up about it twice and he has been a bit slack.
He replied to my first email on June 10 requesting remedial work by saying: “Of course, no problem. I will let you know exactly when I can attend, over the next few days.”
I waited 10 days for a response, didn’t get one and nudged him with another email.
He replied: “As I mentioned in my last email. I will let you know the exact time and date as soon as possible.”
I am still waiting and the flapping roofing is still banging. The neighbours must love me.
I do not love the roofing guy any more. He is on my naughty list.
Song of the day: Michael Jackson “Bad”