Hey body, you and me have to have a little talk. I love you, I really do. Well, I love you most of the time. Anyways, you've always been so damn regular when it comes to telling me I'm not pregnant every month, so this business where I never know when you're going to start shedding our uterine lining? It's really got to stop. Last month, you were a week late, and while that did garner me the awesome nickname of 'Plan B' by my softball team, it was hella annoying. And now this month, you're a week early. Can we go back to the time when I could guess the start of shark week within a day, maybe two max? Those days were fun.
P.S. Please stop getting hit by softballs. It hurts and you're messing up my summer legs.