And I have so very little to be meh about. I think I have meh poisoning: -
Item – To complete the week of career triumph chez May et H, I too had a job interview, for the more senior of the two jobs that I do part-time (and which, frankly, I’ve been doing full-time for the past three weeks owing to massive staffing crisis, so it would be nice to be paid for doing it full-time, ya know?) The interview lasted about 7 minutes, and went, ‘so, you can already do this job, can’t you, May. Do you like it? Yes? Good. What do you think of the staffing crisis? Sucks? Yes, it does rather. Heigh ho. What did you have for lunch? Salad? Well done you’. The wait lasted about, ooh, three minutes. And then my line-manager popped her head round the office door and asked me to step back into the interview room, and tah-dah! I have the job, formally full-time, starting next week. Absolute multi-participant freak-out now occuring as to who will take over what from my junior job, while they work out if, how, and when to replace me. I would laugh, but I sense a week of late working clanking about in the offing.
Item – So, I finished the provera on Thursday, and will of course start bleeding at whatever point between now and, say, the 28th of May that is most likely to cause inconvenience, embarrassment, or distressing flash-backs. Because. But fear not! H came back from the supermarket this afternoon with a large box of super-double-plus tampons. Yes! My husband buys me tampons! Without being asked! I know!
Item – Next Saturday, H and I are driving away away away to the Lake District, where we shall spend a week in the rain (yes, I checked the long-range weather forecast. Rain it is). The point being, we like the Lake District, and it will be my birthday, and we would both like to be as far as possible from London, hospitals, pregnant people, and my mother (sorry, Mum).
Item – We will also be starting Clomid Take 6. 100 mg a day. I think we need a deal of room in case the term ‘blast radius’ becomes applicable, don’t you? Lake District in the rain it is, then. Luckily sheep, though easily startled, are too dense to be easily traumatised.
Item – My Mum called me today, to plan a nice birthday outing with me. Oy. Vey. Guess, go on, guess how long ago I began announcing we’d be away for my birthday. Yes? Any of you get March? And yes, she pulled the ‘oh, it’ll be sad, not being able to see you on your birthday!’ card. And I did not pull the ‘yes, well, it’s the anniversary of the miscarriage at which time, you remember, you sucked’ card, because I was beautifully brought up, ironically by this very same woman who doesn’t hesitate to use emotional blackmail as even minor loose change in intra-familial transactions.
Item – I’m an ungrateful wretch, so I am.
Item – Meh.