"Just for the record," I said to The Mr. in bed last night, "apple juice after brushing your teeth is nasty."

He looked at me ready to laugh and then saw me drinking an apple juice juice box.

"Are you low?" he asked.

I nodded while sucking the last of the juice from the box. We were both exhausted and had decided to go to bed early. It was just barely 9:30 p.m. and we were settling in for a snuggle and some TV.

"It's the second time tonight," I said, referring to my after-dinner low of 52. At the time, I had chalked it up to miscalculating carbs at dinner and taking too much insulin. Although, I really thought I hadn't taken enough, especially after my second helping of cheesy potatoes. I was more shocked at the bedtime low, though, since I had treated the dinnertime low with a juice box and then had some ice cream, for which I was certain I hadn't taken enough insulin.

"Hmm, actually it's the third time today," I said to myself. I was in the 60s after lunch, but I had eaten lunch and then gone to physical therapy where I did enough movement to work up a sweat. So I had figured that one was due to the exercise after lunch.

Realizing it was the third low of the day, I knew this was less about physical therapy and miscalculating carbs, and more about the famous Aunt Flo. She who rears her ugly red head every 30-some days in my house was taking her toll on my body. The last few days had been harder on me than usual, so in hindsight it was no surprise that she threw a few lows into the mix.

Stupid witch.