Just checked the wifeblog, she's not posting - not surprising, she's been posting to my ears for the last couple of weeks. Don't tell anyone I've told you, but she's at that age. You know what I mean, that age where life is just one long bout of PMT.

I must admit I'm not very good with all this hormone related women's stuff. It was bad enough when it really was just plain old PMT, it still managed to catch me out every month. She'd change on cue every twenty eight days from the adorable, vivacious woman I fell in love with to a vicious harridan with not a good word to say about anyone or anything, least of all me. Instead of just shrugging my shoulders and being extra supportive with the poor woman at these difficult times, taking everything she said with a fistful of salt, I'd react with my own moodies, which didn't help much.

Actually, thinking about it, it probably did help, in that it gave her something to focus on while the hormone monsters took over. Without me to blame, she tends to cast her net far and wide, becoming convinced that her whole life is worth shit.

Anyway, now the hormone monsters can attack at any time, which makes for an interesting life, I can tell you. All of my faults, which are many and varied, become magnified for her (or maybe they just assume their natural proportions - the times when she actually likes me she is probably vigorously supressing them) at a moment's notice and we lurch from row to row.

She had a real good shout at me yesterday - she stood right in front of me and yelled so loud I swear plaster fell off the ceiling. And that was when I agreed with her. It was just that the way I agreed with her was wrong.

The ways of the world are strange, but the ways of the woman are stranger still.