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We all have them. Days where you are left wondering who you pissed off in the Universe, because that seems to be the only explanation of how many things could go wrong in the course of the day.

For me, that was yesterday.

DISCLAIMER – this post is 90% about the evils of my female plumbing. Turn back if you must…You’ve been warned.

It started at 3:00 am, when I woke up with the beginnings of really bad cramps. I should have gotten up and taken some Advil, but instead I tried to just go back to sleep. By 4:00 am, I was angry for not listening to my inner voice for by now my uterus was somewhere in the F-3 category, classified as severe damage, roofs and walls torn down, trains overturned, cars thrown around.

I got up and took four Advil. 45 minutes later I took a Meloxicam. By 6 am I took 2 more Advil. I was still in pain, but decided to try to go out for my morning walk. Whoever said exercise was good for cramps didn’t have a uterus like mine.

evil uterusI’m convinced there is an evil villain in my uterus – one that says “Sweep the Leg” when I am at my most vulnerable…like when I went camping in college and my period decided to come two weeks early. Try spending a weekend with toilet paper jammed in your crotch. Yes, my uterus was snickering and twirling her moustache that day.

My walk? I didn’t even make it two miles. I headed back home where a hot shower did its best to untie the knots in my back and quiet the ache in my abdomen.

It was also my daughter’s first day of school. Dropping her off was a sobering reminder that I have ten months of brooding, moody mornings in my future.

Work wasn’t much better. I had a meeting with a sales rep who tried to sell our firm an automated system which would pretty much wipe out my job entirely. No thanks, bub. It also feels like the Wicked Witch of the West has unleashed her flying monkeys in my uterus. Time to take more Advil.

I then spent my lunch hour taking my oldest daughter to her eye doctor appointment. Once there I was told that she has no eye coverage. This is after I called Coventry last week and was told that she is covered until the age of 20 – which she turning in a week. Which was why I jumped through scheduling hoops to get her the eye appointment before her birthday.

So I call Coventry and bitch the lady out. Here I’ve wasted my lunch hour, and the time of all those nice people at the eye doctors because some tool gave me the wrong information when I called to confirm their coverage the week before. Oh and this is all while my uterus is screaming “NO WIRE HANGERS…EVER!”

Can I take more Advil? I sheepishly apologize to the eye doctor staff for having wasted their time and call my husband who freaks out and decides that he’s going to call Coventry and cause some heads to roll.

Back at the office I field calls from clients and my husband who has a gal from Coventry on the phone who wants to know if I remember the day and time that I was told the wrong information from the one of the many incompetents at Coventry. I also chat via iMessage with my younger daughter whose complaining that she has no friends in any class at school and is miserable.

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By the time 6 pm rolls around I not only feel brain dead, but feel as if my uterus has dropped out of my body and is trailing 2 feet behind me. I groan as I realize that I have to stop at the store to buy more tampons…I’ve already been through at least six today, along with 3 pads. Ain’t it fun being me?

While trying to put my groceries in the car, my shirt gets caught on the rusty hanger I use for my car antenna. As I look at the sky and think, “really?” it’s all I can do to not rip that antenna out and fatally stab someone with it.

I finally get home, where all I want to do is change and eat dinner. After using the bathroom (and donning the hazmat suit for the subsequent clean up) I pour a drink and go to carry my sandwich into the bedroom. I’ve got “Bachelor in Paradise” all ready to go. I finally get to relax.

Suddenly, the paper plate holding my sandwich begins to buckle. I can’t easily explain how the next few seconds unfolded, but in an attempt to save my sandwich from tumbling to the ground, I jerked my hands, causing half of my drink to fly out of the cup, leaving a fan of wet droplets on the carpet, and a puddle in the plate under my sandwich.

I lost it. I’m bloody, I’m tired, and I’m hungry but right when I was looking forward to just relaxing, life had to bend me over and stick it to me once more.

I got a rag, dropped down to clean up the spilled drink and began to cry. At that point the one thing I was thankful for was the fact that nobody walked in and saw me…in my underwear, on my hands and knees, sobbing while I scrubbed at the carpet.

My sandwich was wet, but I ate it anyway.

Today is going much better. My uterus has calmed considerably…Voldemort has gone into hiding until next month. I thought a lot about my gynocologist yesterday…about how as she peered into my vag during my last visit and said, “you’re menopausal.”

Ha! That’s a good one.

My uterus? It can’t be stopped. Don’t you know that?

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