Today I earned a celebratory Surprise! It's Your Period! Hot Fudge Sundae. For those of us forever consigned to watch carbs lest we pay for it through the reamed rectum or worse yet, continued infertility, this is a red-letter day indeed. The arrival of this period was a genuine surprise -- my best guesses all had it starting maybe Wednesday or Thursday. Either I misunderestimated the date I ovulated, or I had a really short luteal phase. I don't want to think about the latter, so I will dutifully swallow fistfuls of B-complex while I Pollyannishly believe, with my bursting little be-ginghamed heart, in the former.
As you may recall, I was going commando this cycle, no Clomid, and got a little hysterical -- and I mean that in the uterine sense -- around mid-cycle, which extended from about day 11 through day 23 this time. Right around the 23rd, something changed, we drew up the no-talking-about-infertility treaty, and I mellowed out remarkably. I am grateful, both that I had a miraculously normal-ish cycle, and that I hadn't even had a chance to work myself into full maybe-I'm-pregnant froth. Small victories, folks. Read on.
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I had a talk with Mr. Goodboss today. He was receptive and understanding; I will be pleasantly shocked if anything comes of it. At least I can let him down gently, in stages. Only once I've galloped off into the gathering dusk will he realize the extent of my awesomeness.
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Furthermore: The Mister visited the Housing Department today; we don't have a good idea of what to expect next year, but there's a good chance we'll still get university housing, and if we choose to move, we should be able to get out of our lease whenever with a minimum of hassle. We have slightly more control over where we live than we'd thought.
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All right. After such a big day, I am exhausted and not very funny. Getting sick too, I think. Feh. However, I feel I owe it to the muses to share with the world this very topical song I wrote this morning, which is probably the two-year anniversary of when I stopped bleeding from Pregnancy Loss I: Ectopic Mayhem. Its origins lie here (scroll down) -- something about the phrase "how to make a miscarriage" struck my fancy. I don't mean the phrase in the way it was originally intended -- I imagine "making a miscarriage" as though it were some type of Brownies craft, using cake mix and royal icing and bits of yarn and wallpaper samples.
(I must warn you: I find this uproariously funny, and went around work snickering like Kermit the Frog. However, some of the real, actual people I showed it to -- including my Donnie Darko of a husband -- stared at me with adorable Precious Moments saucer eyes. They thought it was sad. Sad, funny -- who can tell the difference anymore? If you still can, note well: this is offensive. I go too far.)
Little Timmy: How do you make a miscarriage, anyway?
Me, dressed as Disney nanny: Well, Timmy, it's not too difficult. Why, lots of women do it every day! I've even done it myself -- twice! You just... (cue music)
Take a sprinkle of stardust, and a pocket of fears,
A magnum of magic, and a bucket of tears.
You mix them up nicely, and cook until hot --
Garnish with gumdrops, and baby goes *splot*!
Thanks a lot, folks. Tip your waitress.
But wait! I think...I think there's more!
"Magic and stardust, terror and weeping --
Don't bleed through your sheets while you're lying there sleeping!"
I am a horrible person, and if there were a hell, other than the hell of having ruined several pairs of my pajama pants that very way, I would burn in it.
Posted by: Jo | Monday, February 02, 2004 at 09:54 PM
Well *technically* that's the bridge ...
I wonder, did you get the Poppins imagery from my blathering about Naomi's MP obsessions?? xoxoxox see ya in hell smoochies. I'll be the one in magnificent satin loungewear--in red, butofcourse.
Posted by: jilbur | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 at 09:21 AM
I just like to think about Mary Poppins, is all.
Evidently this one really *was* too hideous -- so few comments! Ah, what can you do.
Posted by: Jo | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 at 09:05 PM
well, I thought it was funny. or, at least as funny as something of this sort can be. It was funny because I could "hear" you sing it. I Big Puffy Heart you.
Posted by: Mamarama | Tuesday, February 03, 2004 at 10:42 PM