Life, humidity and phallic fruit

Ask anyone who has known me for any length of time and they will probably tell you a couple things about me.

1. She's moody
2. She needs her beauty sleep
3. She's moody
4. She's funny
5. She's moody
6. She drives too fast
7. She's moody
8. She doesn't think she's pretty
9. She's moody

Lately, I've been even moodier than usual. I'm blaming it on the humidity. The people who've known me for forever (we'll just call them "Kelly") pretty much just go with it, because they know it'll pass, like a gallstone of life.

So when I get this way - when I'm just not the charming Margaret you know and love - I give you permission to just look me in the eye (or write me in the inbox) and say the code word.

Banana

It's not really my code word, per se. It's borrowed from a friend. But it works. If I'm moody for no reason, banana is the best way to tell me to "snap out of it" without slapping me across the face and embarrassing us both. Just don't abuse it. Don't just throw out a banana because you want me to shut the hell up, okay? Treat me and the bananas with love, and we'll pay you back with love.

And fruit salad.