I almost dropped about four combs today while cutting hair.
Yeah, I’m generally clumsy. But this is no ordinary clumsiness. No, these are The Dropsies.
A few of my friends and clients are in the loop as to what The Dropsies indicate. Now it’s your turn, Square Piece followers (whether you’re prepared to handle it or not).
You know how women get particularly sensitive right before or during their time of the month? Yeah? Well, I start dropping things. That’s my sign. There’s something about the few days leading up to a period that make me lose both my quick reflexes and my ability to hold objects for any length of time. It’s like there’s some force that causes my hand to reject tiny tools. Somebody needs to do a study; because I’d venture to guess that other women who regularly work with their hands would discover – if they were paying attention – that they, too, get The Dropsies. (Waitresses? Chefs?)
Several other women, I’ve noticed, run into walls. (Though sometimes that means they’re pregnant.) I’m not sure if this has something to do with The Dropsies; but in both instances it seems like the brain is short circuiting and the body is bearing the consequence. Fortunately for my condition, my body just prefers to reject combs. I’m pleased to announce that I’ve never dropped a blow dryer on anyone’s head (though maybe I’ve slightly bonked them).
And I’ve finally figured out what triggers the waterworks during this very unique time of the month: 1) disorder and 2) continuous loud noises. Within the last hour I was tidying up the house so that I could have a peaceful environment in which to blog, brainstorm and craft. In putting away a clean dish, I discovered that Brian had shoved junk mail and receipts in the kitchen cart cabinet (where miscellaneous kitchen appliances go). No big deal, right? Not worthy of weeping, right? Well, that depends on the day. On this day, the sight of the crumpled receipts triggered that familiar stinging behind the eyes.
Oh good grief.
Shaking it off, I continued organizing surfaces when Brian set up his lap top and began blaring heavy music by The Chariot. Do I dislike The Chariot? No. They’re a wild band whose sound makes me think, This must be what war sounds like. We saw one of their shows this summer and recently hosted the guys as they were traveling through. Greatest, kindest, most humble, wonderful group of musicians. But I’ve got The Dropsies. And with The Dropsies comes all this other crap. So once again, thanks to the decibel at which the heavy metal was playing, sensitive Square Piece felt the snively stinging behind her eyes.
I requested that Brian play something like Josh Garrels. Sensing my “signs,” he lovingly suggested that I relax and take a bath. (He’s getting better at this, isn’t he? Unlike the time that this happened.)
So there you have it. Clearly it’s Brian’s fault that I’m blogging from the tub about the signs of PMS, right?
*cough* blame-shifter *cough*
Do you have any unusual signs?