Growling at Mother Theresa

Growling at Mother Theresa -- that's what I've felt like doing for the past few weeks. It's as though PMS had come back to taunt me.

I couldn't figure out why snapping at innocent barristas over a sprinkle of cinnamon had become my habit -- until I read the the information sheet that came with my new medication. Possible side effects: irritability.

Irritability? Irritability I can handle. This was like channeling Leona Helmsley and Dick Cheney simultaneously. Downright mean! Hoping to change my mood, I bought a parakeet -- and named it Attila.

Possible side effect, number two: increased appetite and bloating. You'd be cranky too if you were holding more water than Hoover Dam. The only thing that fit this week were my earrings.

I justified eating an entire baguette at one sitting by telling myself that French people do it all the time -- well, a French family -- of 5.

So for the sake of world peace, I have retired to my apartment with sufficient quantities of highly processed foods and some trashy novels. I promise not to come out until I can say 5 positive things about Mother Theresa.