I hate it when they're right!

It all started about 3 days ago. David came home from work and I was instantly in a bad mood all night. I basically ignored him. I just didn't want him anywhere near me. Dont look at me. Dont touch me. Dont talk to me. The next night we were watching TV and I couldn't stop getting worked up about everything I was seeing and hearing. My rantings went from the cash for clunkers program and health insurance to how I thought Anthony Bourdain had lost his edge and become a posh snob no better than the people he mocks. Finally David chimed in, he'd been quiet all night for fear I'd start attacking him (smart boy), saying that I was on a quite the soap box and then proceeded to say that I must be getting my period. As my temperature was rising and I was about to give him a verbal lashing for thinking that any mood swing or passionate opinion must naturally be linked to PMS... I realized he was probably right. Damn, damn, damn!! The best I could muster without bursting into pyscho sobbing was to dart a bitchy look in his direction. Needless to say, we spend the rest of the night in relative silence. But out of the corner of my eye I could see that smug little grin on his face. MEN!