Ah, the PMS. How I've missed you. Has it been a month already? Is that why I'm sniffling at the sight of this cute little toddler in a jester's cap and big puffy green coat with his parents sitting near me at Heine Brothers? Is this why I have the urge to call my sister and reminisce about the book Joyful Noise, of which I was reminded as I listened to a motet from the Middle Ages? Is this why I lipsync to "Maori" by Girlyman and become very sentimental for my Elizabeth? Is this why, even though I just left home an hour ago, I already really miss Thomas and want to touch his short, spikey hair and smell his breath?
Hmm. If all this increased sentiment can be explained biochemically, I say this: Thank God for hormones.
Even mine.
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