Lo, Shall The Blue Moon Bring A Crimson Tide Unto The Pale Plane

I live with my mum. I’ve got conditions that impact my reproductive system and result in my periods typically being extremely painful and really random with three- to five-month gaps between them. Very occasionally, I have what I call a “blue moon” period, where two show up in one month; the second one never has any PMS to harken its arrival. Because my periods are also extremely heavy, I stick to dark bedding to minimise the damage that can be done. My mum hates the dark bedding and has opted to buy me a set that’s white with dots, with a white sheet, which is cute but… risky for someone like me. My period has finished and she’s insisted I switch on over to the white set, which I eventually agree to.

Me: “You’re fully aware that I’m going to have a blue moon period, right?”

Mum: “Oh, shush. You just don’t want the white!”

Me: “I do want the white. It’s cute. But it’s impractical and I’m calling it now; blue moon, here I come.”

Mum: “SHUSH!”

Me: “Just don’t yell at me when it occurs.”

Mum: “Okay, I won’t, but you’re having the white set.”

A couple of nights come and go. I wake up in a scene that wouldn’t be amiss in a horror film, strip the bed, and go chuck myself in the shower. I flounce my way down the stairs with the affected bedding and dramatically pose in the doorway of the living room where Mum’s watching the TV.

Me: “I’m a seer!”

My mum just swore. Fortunately, it was only the sheet that was hit, and since it was white we could go ham with bleach.