Caveat emptor: I am going to speak of menses. Briefly. Still, men who are squeamish, who cannot stand to hear the word “period” used outside of a grammatical discussion, who turn pale and sickly when asked to pick up tampons at the drugstore, who mutter “I’m eating, here!” when you mention ovulation at dinner — click away. Come back tomorrow. In the meantime, go peruse the Huffington Post — I hear they have an excellent section on divorce. As for me? I promise to have returned to a benign, uncontroversial topic by tomorrow. Maybe tomatoes. Or even something not red at all.
For the rest of you? It won’t be a lengthy discussion.
First, I wanted to apologize. There’s been a lot of morose mumbling on this blog in the last week. Self-pity, lugubrious reflection, complaints. “I’m so tired!” “My daughter is too messy!” “It’s hard to be home!” Wingewingewingewingewinge. Turns out? All — or nearly all — PMS. And, as is always the case, with the arrival of — in this case — the sea sponge, the departure of my misery has followed swiftly.
Second, and on the subject of the above-mentioned sponge, I just wanted to say that the jury is in; that thing is spectacular! A resounding success! The greatest thing to come to the female cycle since, I don’t know, Motrin? Except it doesn’t corrode your stomach lining! And, contrary to early indications, it ended up being comfortable — I could walk! I could run! I could swim! I could perform complex and difficult yoga sequences! Not that I did. Haven’t in years. Mostly I just trudged unenthusiastically. Still, it’s the principle.
Best of all? The novelty value. I loved looking at passersby on the street and thinking “I have a sponge in me. Bet you can’t say that.” Of course one or two of them, having had accidents of surgery or what have you, probably could. But no one could say sea sponge. A once living creature of the deep. So mostly I felt very unique.
True, there is the rinsing out factor, which I won’t go into here — lest I lose half of my readership on the spot — but even that small bit of housekeeping is quite simple. Ever squeezed out a dish sponge? Wrung out a mop? Rolled a hand-washed sweater in a towel? Hired a cleaning person to do the same? You’re qualified. And other than that it had everything to recommend it. Delightful! Organic! Green! Free Trade! Totally eccentric! Buy one! Let Neptune be your maxipad!
Now if he could just do something about my mood swings…