Time spent...

...in acts of unprecedented kindness toward my ovaries is time well spent and guaranteed not to go unnoticed. I was ready to drive a knife deep into the hearts of those useless, little suckers when my gay coworker appeared beside me like the shadow of the hint of an effeminate ghost. He then performed the said act of kindness toward my ill-mannered ovaries and all those evil, dormant little eggs inside me suddenly felt something like a ray of sunshine do something that I imagine is not very similar at all to darkening their door, but seems akin to as as far as idioms go. At that moment, those little eggs became seeds of hope- hopes of similar acts of kindness that may be taken on their behalf during future and hopefully less gut-wrenching menstrual cycles. Thank you Max Denler.
PS. I wish that all the brainless ninnies that keep hounding me about teaching them to learn how to knit or crochet would go out and learn how to comprehend diagrams of poorly drawn fingers and yarn like the rest of us. I feel like closing my eyes and touching their hands and saying, "There. Now you can knit." No doubt, they would say, "Really?". And my natural response would be, "No, dammit! Now go buy yourself a book and learn how to teach yourself something for a change!" People just expect arts and crafts to be delivered up to them on silver platters. And they smile like they deserve a reward for wanting to learn something just enough to exert no actual effort on their own parts. It's like they are saying, "I want to learn. Here! You do it."
Man...those evil, evil ovaries.