Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Alright. I’m sitting here waiting. For many things. For inspiration and motivation to come, for my estrogen to kick in. The plumber. The contractor.

Last night was not a good night. I took my estrogen pills late last night and it kicked in right as my husband walked in the door. And I don't need to remind you that science found a way to bottle PMS in capsule form and dish it out. While the last few weeks, I’ve turned into a weeping mess after taking these lovely hormone-enhancing drugs, last night was just the opposite. It also didn’t help that I discovered a leak in one of the pipes directly above our kitchen. My agitation only increased when my husband wanted to watch the end of the Twins game (they were in the bottom of the 8th inning, ahead by two runs), and that, when I finally did get to watch American Idol, my girl Bowersox didn’t rock like she normally does. So, all in all, the circumstances for Hurricane Estrogen were just about perfect.

I was snotty, I was snide. I was, in fact, down right malicious. To my cowering husband and to all the contestants on American Idol. And, it spilled over into Glee as well. It happens. About two hours into my tirade, my husband told me to can it, and to find some serenity. He didn't want to play "What Will Simon Say," our favorite American Idol past time. As if. I went to bed, feeling crabby, weepy, and of course, very sorry for myself.

Fast-forward the scene to the present.

The plumber just left. I wonder if he could smell the waves of estrogen and rage billowing off of me. He was kind when he broke the news to me, gently telling me that I'll need to have my bathroom redone. It's the little things we should be grateful for, I suppose. I pity the claims adjuster that has to deal with me today.

I need a break. I need a remote control on my life. Something that lets me hit pause just so I can take the time I need to comprehend it all and throw an all-out temper tantrum. Or, preferably, something to DVR my life, so I can record what I've done and watch when everything is over, and fast forward through the low points and bursts of crazy, skipping to the feel-good portion where you know everything turns out well in the end. You know, something with a lesson to be learned at the end. Kind of like an episode of "Full House."

But I suppose that's the point of life. You have to muddle through your own twists and turns to discover your own rainbow. I'm just hoping mine has a pot of gold at the end. After all, we do need a new bathroom.