**A warning to those of you who feel a bit sensitive to subjects of a womanly nature--the following post may discuss menstruation. If that bothers you, go eat a sandwich or something, or keep reading, but be forewarned...
Saturday night found me standing on a stool in my bathroom, removing everything from the top shelf in the laundry "room" and designating new homes for all the crap that had collected there. Because the shelf is hard to reach, it's become a home for everything we needed to stash out of sight in the three years we've lived here. Well--maybe not everything, but certainly a good amount more than belonged up there, and none of it laundry-related.
I'd gone into the laundry room to put down a pile of clothes that had collected in the front hallway. I'd gone into the hallway to get the last bin of trucks so I could finish sorting Will's toys. I'd started sorting Will's toys because I'd cleared some out of the kitchen so I could wash and wax the floor. All told, I had eight different projects going on in the house at once on Saturday, all in various states of not-done-ness.
My mom walked into the bathroom to get her clean jeans. I had just folded them and put them in a clothes basket, along with the rest of her clean clothes from the dryer, a set of sheets from the aforementioned top shelf, a bath mat that no one wanted to claim but I truly believe is hers, two pairs of earrings I keep trying to return to her but keep finding in other non-earring spots, and an attachment for her steamer, long forgotten and buried under Kirk's furniture refinishing supplies. I was climbing down from the stool with a pair of lace pillows in my hand, also from the bottomless top shelf.
"Do you still want these?" I asked her, thrusting the pillows in her direction.
"Oh--I forgot about those! YES, of course I still want them!"
"Okay, then they have to leave the bathroom."
"Do I have to take them right this minute?"
"Well, I'm cleaning off the shelf and they can't go back up there."
Big sigh. "I'm not going back up to my house right now. Tony will be here any minute and we're going to dinner. I'll get them later."
I gave her the look of Death as she set them on the bathroom sink counter and walked away.*
Sunday, I got up at 5:30 and jumped back into the eight projects I'd started. By the end of the day, I'd finished three and added two more. There were growing piles labeled "Kirk" and "Marie" in the dining room. The chaos I created had a system, although it was apparent only to me.
My mother walked around, taking in the state of affairs, and shook her head. "Jennifer, are you by any chance getting your period right now?"
"Why, Mom--what would ever make you say that?"
I hate it when she's right.
By the way, I'm down to three projects now. There's an end in sight! Of course, with the newest rendition of the birth control pill I'm on now (I've stuck with the Yaz, since the NuvaRing made me horribly, down-in-a-hole depressed), I only have a couple days of period energy each month. I suppose this is a good thing. Otherwise, I might never actually *finish* anything.
*The pillows, incidentally, are still there. If they're not gone by tomorrow night, they're going out with the trash. Don't mess with a hormonally imbalanced Jennifer!