Item: Friday’s smuggled OPK stick came up positive. So very positive, it started turning positive as I held it up to put the cap back on before laying it down on the sink to ‘mature’ (on a sheet of toilet paper. I am hygenic and considerate, unlike the person who used the loo before me). I nevertheless smuggled it to a window and got a good peek at it. Positive. Aha.
Item: Guess who then went to the other library during her lunch-break, dug around in her bag to pull her ID out, and flicked what looks, actually, exactly like a positive pregnancy test, across the room? The security guard went to pick it up for me, saw what it was, and, err, let me pick it up. And smirked. Oh hell, oh flop-sweat.
Item: We shall draw a discreet veil over last night’s panic-stricken desperate re-writing of my bloody stupid mindless cretinous vomitably-poor dissertation proposal so I could email it to my tutor BEFORE midnight, AFTER an evening in the pub, and technically meet my deadlines. In my defence, I have been preoccupied with my innards, and my family’s health (seriously considering whether discussing this last at length will cheer me up or plunge me to the inner depths), and this last week at work was hell and I had to go to the pub as it was my beloved line-manager’s leaving-do and I had one half-pint only, and I clearly have a recklessly dim-witted attitude to academic deadlines and if I were my own student I’d kill me.
Item: And H had a sore throat and ended up leaving work early to go home and suffer.
Item: And I still screwed him. After I’d finished driving the poor ailing lambkin mad with dissertation vapourings. Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his body for his neurotic, fertility-obsessed wife.
Item: Jayzus, but Satsuma is giving me a hard time. Anyone would think I’d hit her with a brick.