Dear Stayfree, it's not you, it's me. I swear.

I didn't want to write anything today. Mostly because it's September 11 and I felt compelled to say something profound when really, I feel wordless.

The other reason I didn't want to write anything was because I've found myself feeling lighter and freer the last few days I haven't blogged (I hate that I’ve seen so many ads for maxi pads that the words “lighter” and “freer” make me think of Aunt Flo—damn you Stayfree!).

Anyway, you know when you suggest to your boyfriend Fred (or girlfriend Fredwina) that you "take a break" and you think hmmm, maybe I really do love Fred but I need a month or two apart to come to the conclusion that he's the one for me and while we're apart I'll test that theory by having lots—I mean lots—of meaningless sex with hot men and during the time apart you realize that whoa, hot meaningless sex is fantastic and why would I want to deprive myself of that for Fred—Fred farts in bed and pops his pimples in the rearview mirror, for Pete's sake—when I'm only on this planet once and monogamy is just a manmade convention designed to whittle us down to apathetic blobs because of our unrealistic duty to compromise and matrimonial fascism and do we have to have steak again for dinner I mean come on!

Oopsie, now where the hell was I? Oh right, these last few days have been like the "break" and they've felt damn good.

There. That’s all I wanted to say. You can go back to your regularly scheduled program now. Unless it’s that time of the month. If that’s the case, I wish you a light and free slumber. With wings. And weavelock pro or whatever the hell it’s called.