A stand-alone story.

Three days of my life gone, once a month. Well, once every twenty nine point five days, being tied to lunar cycles and all that. I know when the full moon is, when to expect it, so I usually manage to book time off or make sure th15:28 03/03/2010at I've left nothing important half-done for when I call in sick. The men, they get squeamish and put it down to "women's problems". The women usually make snide comments about taking a couple of aspirin.

It starts off with subtle aches and a slightly higher temperature. Perhaps a taste for foods I don't ordinarily eat. Then come the cramps as muscles that usually lie dormant are forced to move in a way I wish they wouldn't. Those first eight or so hours are not just lost ad wasted, they're stolen from me and pain is their thief.

But after that... Well, actually, it's kind of fun. Time away from real life. And I make a kick-ass squirrel.