Of hormones and snow

When a hormonal day collides with snow you just know the combination is probably not going to be a positive one.

On Friday night - the night of the non Borders Search and Rescue dinner (there were several cry-off's, not just us) - Mountain Man got an alert on his pager for a rescue mission to take place yesterday morning. Apparently the situation wasn't urgent as those needing rescuing were safe in a mountain hut with good equipment, but were stuck. The request meant an early start for him.

Meanwhile I woke up with the dreaded 'itchy legs', which is when I know I'm hormonal. Luckily it's not an 'I want chocolate' kind of hormonal, which I'm quite pleased about as it's not been that long since I had one of those and it'd worry me considerably if I had another quite so soon. The itchy legs seem to coincide with feeling moody and a can't be bothered attitude.

Snow always makes me feel like hiding under the duvet and, as there was at least 6 inches out there, this was definitely going to be a day inside. I opted to do some housework, clear the path to the house of snow, feed the birds, cook some spaghetti sauce for our evening meal and then settle down to do some work. This didn't last long and I opted instead to sort out my old psychology books to put in boxes to be taken to the second hand book shop, which was cathartic, but once done I admit I spent the majority of the afternoon staring out of the window at the ice on the road and hoping MM would get back safely.

I'm pleased to report MM arrived home while it was just still light with tales of awful driving conditions and a successful rescue mission, thank goodness, especially as the temperature was dropping by the second and snow was starting again.

The onset of dark and the snow covering the velux windows, which often makes the house feel like a snow hole, found us both feeling that it was quite a lot later than it really was and, although it was only 5.30, suddenly my hormonal state ripped in to wanting a drink. Only a martini would do and only if we had the right kind of olives (small ones with pimento, in case you're interested), which we did. One of those and dinner later saw me wanting another. This was not a good idea. Neither was the glass of red wine I also felt like at about 9 o'clock.

And of course, this morning I've woken up feeling not particularly good, which is hardly surprising. I still have itchy legs though, but today I will be wary of that 'wanting anything at all' kind of feeling and will not be pandering to it under any circumstances.