Complaint: Medusa was Grossly Misunderstood.

You know you're in the grip of extreme PMS when you see conspiracy theories at every turn.

This is where my mood has turned.

Funny thing is, I've had a kick-ass great day. I had coffee with one of my favorite people, went to a an informational interview that got me a job and connected me with a kindred spirit, and I still wasn't late for pick-up at my kids' school.

This was a vast improvement on yesterday, when I gently, ever-so-gently, rear-ended the mom in the Odyssey in front of me at the car line pick-up at school. After apologizing profusely, I went back to my car and sobbed silently. I should have known this was the beginning of hormonal hell.

Anyway, I think you feel the highs and lows even more acutely when you're in this heightened biological state. I had such GREAT day today, and then my daughter was totally in my son's grill while he was trying to do his homework and I finally sent her to her room where she howled for an eternity, it seemed. That kind of soured me. And I just got in the grouch zone big time.

And I noticed that I was more than a little pissed at the woman whose car I bumped because she called her insurance company.

Honestly, that's it.

Of course she called her insurance company. If it was me, I would have done the same.

I guess I would have liked to have talked more to her first, but what, really, would that have achieved?

When you see it in print, it doesn't look like a big deal. She made a phone call. Then I got a phone call. And it will all work out, hopefully without too painful a bump in our premium. End of story. So I needed to drop that storyline, pronto.

Then my husband came downstairs from his office to say he was missing dinner tonight and I totally over-reacted, as if he'd said he was going away for six months on a cruise without me.

This is PMS at its rich, delightful, best.

So I think I'm going to have to really Zen it up and pause before I speak for the next five or six days. And remember that the world is not out to get me. I'm pretty good at that all by myself.

And now, I will go and celebrate the good parts of this day. Which were many.

And Medusa? PMS. Duh. And a bad hair day, but that's another story.