An Issue of Blood (aka icky girl stuff)

Normally, I don't let my period stop me from doing anything. It's an annoyance, making sure I have tampons in my purse or my pocket, or that I'll have some sort of bathroom access. I was on the swim team, I've gone hiking and sailing and vacationed, and I try not to make it an excuse for copping out.

And really, I got a good deal out of the Menstrual Cycle Fairy. Normally, I get little twingy cramps that let me know 'oh, by the way, the monthly visitor is on it's way, so stock up on those punctuation supplies.' Very subtle - sometimes I don't even notice them at all.

Normally. This morning, however, I woke up at oh-dark-thirty with horrendous crunching abdominal ows. At that moment I felt no compunction against deciding to crawl downstairs in a few hours, call in sick for the morning and sleeping until noon.

It's amazing how quickly a four-hour day goes by.

I'm not entirely one hundred percent. They're moving the breakroom at work, and they've just gotten to the point of re-routing the plumbing, which means the nearest source of tea water is three floor down or three wings over. Quite a hike, just for tea. So I'm a little over-heated right now and dehydrated headachy, but the cramps are done with, so it's all minor discomfort.

Finished off Drake and Flint's The Tyrant an hour ago. Drake's a fair enough military sci-fi writer, but I can't read him as a solo author - his characters are too boring - cut and dried. Flint always has interesting, living, breathing characters. He made an interesting point in critiquing someone else's work on the slush pile on Baen's Bar: all of his characters are stereotypes, sure, because at a basic level, stereotypes are really archetypes. And we all respond to archetypes, if an author spins it right.

I think I'll just give up and build the man a damn shrine. This is getting ridiculous.