You might be wondering, "What is going on with Mary that she called this blog post 'Brownies, Bristleworms, and PMS."

I could be wondering the same thing, but I've long been used to the odd ways that my train of thought sometimes jumps the tracks.

Ever since my friend Vicky had to completely empty, rerock and refill my aquarium, I've kept an eye on it like a royal guardswoman protecting the heir to the throne.   Aiptasia now fear me.  The other day, three of the nuisance anemones popped out on the torch coral.  I eradicated them with three squirts of this special liquid faster than you can say, "Die you ugly suckers, die."

Tonight, when I fed the fish and cleaned the glass, I spotted a bristleworm sticking out of the branchlike rock that holds three mushroom corals. 

A bristleworm!  How dare that invasive, nasty, thing appear in my beautiful aquarium?  I was appalled, angry, loaded for bear like an intruder had broken into my home.

I didn't want to just kill this thing.  I wanted to destroy its existence so thoroughly that any other worms that might be lurking in my tank would commit hari kari rather than risk my wrath.

I actually cussed at a worm less than an inch long.  Like it could hear me.  Like it could understand me even if it heard me. 

Can you say, "That's a little over the top, Mar?"

Sure we can - but I'd think twice about it, if I was you. 

Simply put, I'm PMSing like, well, a mad woman.  For some reason, its affecting me much more radically than usual.  My moods are swinging like a giant pendulum.  Thank God this won't last long.  I can't take the self-induced emotional drama.

Tonight, a half dozen friends from work came over for book club.  Due to circumstances (i.e. we've been busier than all get out at work for the last several weeks), none of us actually finished the last book chosen by the club.  I can assure you that it didn't interfere in the least with our enjoyment of wine and pizza.  We picked a new book to read, but mostly we talked, ate and drank.  After the pizza, I brought out the pan of my nearly famous double-chocolate decadent brownies.

No pharmaceutical company will ever develop a more effective formula for positive mood adjustment than wine and chocolate.  Less calories, sure, but who the heck cares?

I feel much better now.

The bristleworm still must die, but at least I won't attack it with the ferocity of a hound from Hell.

Ahhhhhh.