Argh

TMI warning, perhaps.

Sometimes I dislike myself intensely. It's not that I don't like who I am, but I really hate my hormones when I am either at the end or middle of my 28 days. Today is a prime example. 

It's the middle of the month (actually day 11 for me), and today we went to go look at sofas. I actually really liked several sofas, and he kinda liked a few, and really liked none. We spent a while in there, and I felt like he was rushing us through. It turns out he was rushing us through because he didn't really like the place,  but he didn't communicate that to me. 

Anyway, I spent a few moments talking to a sales clerk about their process, and when we were finished, B approached me in a panicked way and I asked if he liked anything in there, and he said that he didn't. Great. I wasted my time looking at everything when apparently he had decided early on that he didn't like their stuff. So I was mad a) because we wasted our time b) I actually did like a few things and c) he didn't appear to be concerned about what I thought. In hindsight, he really didn't need to ask because I said "Oh, I like this one." But my ovaries didn't realize this, and I got really upset with him. 

It wasn't about sofas, but he thinks it was. I was upset with him because I didn't feel as though my thoughts were heard or taken into consideration. That rang a few other bells, and before I knew it, we're standing in our house and I am crying and carrying on about how I feel he doesn't care to know what I think about things, and what he says is what goes. None of this is true, but you can't tell my emotional self that it's not true. 

So an hour later we both vented our frustrations, and he went to a friend's house to play XBOX (he's addicted to that little white box with its green eye). I took a bath, sang my little heart out while bubbles piled around me, and then clarity came. I was a little crazy. And I'm going to have to apologize. And I really dislike my hormones. 

Crap.