Page 5 of It's Not PMS, It's You

“Your checks don’t bounce.”

I laughed, but then stopped when I thought of something else important. “I’m supposed to meet Nick Morris this afternoon.”

“For a date?”

“No.To give him the key to the house.”

Nick was the landscape designer I had hired for my backyard project that would start tomorrow.

Soon, I would have french doors in my home office that open up to palm trees, a fountain, benches, chimes, cactus, succulents, rocks, as well as flowers that attract butterflies and hummingbirds. He had already lined up someone to come lay the foundation for the fountain and gazebo a few weeks ago. The project also included waist-high planter boxes to grow organic vegetables, plus the gazebo would have comfy chairs for relaxing, reading, working outside, and even taking afternoon naps.

Okay, I’m pretty sure I hadn’t had a nap in my entire life, but Dee told me that sleep experts believe that daytime naps would increase my alertness, boost creativity and memory, ease stress, improve perception, enhance my non-existent sex life, help me lose weight, reduce the risk of heart attack, and brighten my not-so-sunny disposition.

According to Dee, naps were like a miracle drug.

I was willing to give them a shot.

“For an older guy, Nick looks delicious.”

“Older guy?”

Dee nodded. “Yeah—he must be up there in his forties.”

I glared at her, even though I knew it would have zero effect. “Excuse me?Upthere? I guess that means I’m up there, too. Careful or I’ll bounce your next paycheck on purpose.”

I was forty-five years old and didn’t have a problem with getting older, but I didn’t consider myself to beup there.

Dee smiled. “Yeah, but you don’t look a day over thirty-five. I hope I look half as good as you when I’m your age.”

“You’re forgiven.” I smiled. “I don’t understand how you get anything done when you get off topic so much.”

“I’m a multitasking queen. By the way, I already sent Nick a message to let him know I would meet him instead of you.”

Dee had met with Nick the last two times he had come to my house to take measurements and do some calculations in my yard, since I’d been out of town on business. All of my communication with Nick had been through email and phone calls because my schedule had been crazy lately.

He sounded professional when we talked and it appeared that we were on the same page, but I knew from experience that many business owners were trained in the skill of telling the client exactly what they wanted to hear so they could get the job. That’s why I had a rule of meeting everyone I did business with in person, to make sure there weren’t any negative vibes, red flags, or personality conflicts. I wanted to look that person in the eyes and trust what I felt in my gut. I had one of the best bullshit detectors around and could determine almost immediately when a person wasn’t being sincere.

My gut is always right.

“Maybe I should tell Nick to hold off and I can meet him after I get back from Phoenix.”

“No.” Dee was adamant, as usual. “I’ll take care of everything and give him the key. And remember, he’s the best in the business. You havenothingto worry about.”

“Just because Nick Morris is the best doesn’t mean he can’t be a pain in my butt. I already have enough stress in my life and don’t need more.”

“Andthat’swhy you hired him in the first place, remember?”

Dee had come up with the idea of the backyard project. She claimed that the stress in my life would kill me and that I needed a place to disconnect and destress. My backyard would be transformed into a tranquil space, my little zen garden. Yes, I only lived three blocks from the beach, but sometimes I needed just a minute or two to step right outside my home office, take a few deep breaths, clear my head, and lower my blood pressure. Hopefully, my new zen garden would be a game changer, but I wasn’t going to worry about that right now. I needed to get ready to fly to Phoenix.

I downed the rest of my coffee. “Okay, gotta run.”

“Wait!” Dee scooted closer to her camera again. “Before you go, tell me what happened to your wrist. And the spinning class. What was that all about?”

I stared at her, not wanting to tell her, but knowing she would keep insisting. “Okay, but don’t you dare laugh.”

“I wouldneverdo such a thing.”

“Right.” I sighed. “Well . . .”