Time of the month

I really should learn not to schedule my breaks from nommy go pills at the same time as my continuous-wear contact lenses go dry and evil.  It means that I'm an absolute bear for a few days: headachey, eating crap, snarling and snarking.  This month, yours truly is being an aggressive materialist -- I'm rolling Will saves to avoid flipping boy-scout cake stands and bellowing, "Where is your God now?" before rounding on hippies for daring to mention aspartame or vaccines within a bat-fart's threshold of my Hard Science ear.  Hulk Grumble! Hulk Buy Chocolate!

What tipped me off was the slippery, centre-of-gravity shifty feeling that I might agree with something, anything, Ayn Rand might have said.  That's one of those "you are not yourself" triggers (Caution: Intellectualized juvenilia ahead!) that always pulls me up short.

Now, where's that chocolate?