I really don't keep track of my cycles anymore. I figure there is no point unless I meet Brad Pitt and then I can only assume I will wake up the next day pregnant with triplets and adoptive mother to twelve.
But I always have plenty of warning when my period is on its way. I become a raging bitch about a week beforehand. (As opposed to my usual sunshiney personality, y'know.)
Poor A. I've been royally beyond cranky today.
But you know what I found at the store today? Girl Scout Cookie ice cream. (They had Samoa and Thin Mint.) That helps. Now if those little girls would knock on my door with some actual Samoas, we would be in business.