The PMS Fairy whacked me with a 2x4 this month - insomnia, headaches, a three pound weight gain, general feeling of Ugh. Isn't that special? What makes it more special is while I feel like shit on a shingle I have to go shopping for nice professional lady work clothes. I'll wait while those of you who have been shopping lately recover from your guffaws of amusement. No, I really have to. It's an unforeseen side effect of inciting rebellion at work, "they" (the Powers That Be) have a new client and want to trot me and the Boss in front of them, and I need to look like a grownup professional. So I must go forth into the endless swamp of gaudy faux-Lilly Pulitzer capri pants and halter tops and sequinned thongs and try to find something. God help me.

My friend C at work says don't bother. She summed up the fashion choices this season perfectly: Brittney Spears or Barbara Bush. Trampy teenager or dowdy Republican matron, nothing in between.

If I crash and burn on this mission I can fall back on my One Good Black Skirt, and thank God I have it though it's now a bit large, and dig out something I already own to wear with it, but this is getting ridiculous.

Headache feels better after infusion of caffeine. Good.

I also have an urge to make my way to the NSLYS to pick up a couple of skeins of other colors of Cascade 220. I need some brighter colors (not Lilly Bright, but brighter) to mix with what I already have for the next felting projects. I could always order from the Threadbear boys, who just got a truckload of the stuff. Maybe that's what I'll end up doing, but I try to support my LYS if I can. It's just tricky because it's not on my beaten path and not open when I can get there unless I make a special trip. If they started Sunday afternoon hours I'd be all over it.

My hairy little trainer says it's time for our walk. Time to get moving!