Everyone’s getting on my nerves, even me

ALOT of things get on my nerves (the overuse of the word ‘iconic’ and people who promise ‘to cut a long story short’ and then don’t), but two days before my period arrives I will shred you where you stand if you look at me wrong.

A few days ago, I felt my irritation rise. A book about ‘kindfulness’ (the new mindfulness!) is sent to me and I visualise myself stuffing the pages down the author’s neck. I know I’m getting my period because of this, plus I’ve got a spot the size of Mount Etna on my cheek.

The next day an old friend arrives from the USA. We arrange to meet. I should be excited but I feel tetchy. I suggest dinner (in a Middle Eastern place that serves tahini ice cream) followed by drinks in the sun which I think you’ll find is a ruddy good night out.

“Eh, no,” she says, she wants to do something cultural instead. This really grinds my gears. “Not a bloody play,” I reply. “I’ve been to two plays in the last two weeks and I would rather stay home and chew tin foil.”

This doesn’t go down well (surprise) and she digs her heels in. Later, I feel guilty, and realising PMT might be at play, I go online and find some last-minute and very pricey tickets to a much-hyped play.

“Getting us two tickets to this,” I write and send her a link with multiple kisses. “Actually, let’s just keep it simple and do you, me & dinner,” she writes back. I am tempted to throw my phone in the bin. The night turns out to be boozy and fun and on the way home I miss a call from the new squeeze. The next day he sends me a message: “Are you OK?” “Sweet mother, is he trying to make me dump him?” I think to myself. Then my period arrives.