A thousand thank yous and/or complications

As I was peregrinating blogland, as I do from time to time, I noticed a thing. I have my own blog dashboard – no, really! – and it is telling me that I shall very shortly, unless you all decide you can’t bear me, be receiving my 1000th comment. Cool, huh? I will be looking out for the 1000th commentator very carefully, and I am wondering what on earth I could do to them to celebrate. Cry on them, knowing me, she added cheerfully.

Meanwhile, the madness becomes infectious – H (yes, I know, a husband!) is now hypnotised by my Cycle of Mysteries and has taken to encouraging me to pee on OPKs. All of which are coming back resoundingly negative, nay, buggeroffish even, thank you for asking. But the confused delay in taking provera is not bothering me overmuch – it occurred to me and my handy little desk-top calendar at work that if I leave the provera until next week, I wouldn’t have to worry about testing for, you know, resulty results, until after I hand the dissertation in, and that might just about save my marriage, if not my degree.

Incidentally, very behind on the dissertation, because of the Month Off For Doom-Laden Purposes. Curses.

If I ever start flicking wistfully through a university post-graduate prospectus again, please, someone, snatch it off me and beat some sense into me with it.

P. S. Found myself in a coffee shop queue at lunch-time behind two remarkably skinny young women, one of which was squealing to the other at the top of her remarkably shrill voice that she hadn’t even been trying yet and her husband was so thrilled and they’d always wanted a large family and her parents were going to buy them a push-chair and they hadn’t even been really trying and it was amazing and she’d better not have any coffee of course and she didn’t even feel sick yet and it was amazing. And I stood there thinking, how very un-British of her to tell the entire coffee-shop, and also, she was clearly gestating a bat and training it to echo-locate in utero because really, the squealing. And then I went back to the office and was hugely unproductive all afternoon.

13 responses to “A thousand thank yous and/or complications

  • Heather

    I imagine that she just found out that morning too. Because her period was 1.5 seconds late. And she is already telling everyone. Why didn’t you beat her down with a coffee stirrer?

    And I think you should follow your heart. If you want to wait to take the provera, wait. I always tried to plan when it would be convenient to have the horrible week.

  • Eliza

    Am I number 1,000? Am I amIamI???

    Also, why didn’t you bola-whip that woman with your purse? That is just plain bad manners. I never discussed pregnancies in public until it was obvious from across the room (which means I only discussed them in public at the doctor’s office, because my own Uterus of Doom didn’t much like to carry babies and I was generally on bedrest)(also, I am no twig and was, especially after the first pregnancy, one of those women you don’t want to ask because you could be WRONG!)…I think you’re doing the right thing to get past the dissertation before the stick-weeing begins in earnest–I turned in my MFA thesis two weeks before giving birth and trust me, pregnancy at any stage does NOT mix well with deadlines…

  • megnath

    Hi May,
    How completely hideous. What a monster. I wish women like that (and I’ve known a few) would miscarry (at least once)…..GRRRRRR……..
    PS: love reading your blog.

  • megan

    oh those coffee girls. such naivete.
    the good thing about the provera is that you can take it on your own schedule, right? i say wait and make something work FOR you for a change, miss may.

  • Rita

    wrench. Maybe she’s not British and she’s from another planet, infiltrating and of course, breeding.
    Or maybe she’s from Canada – because I’m finding alot of coffee line squealing going on here.

  • geohde

    Ack. You’re right. So incredibly un-british of her. Give her a coffee enema, say I 🙂


  • KristiKae

    Maybe Squealing Coffee Wench will have the kind of morning sickness that lasts all day. Or the kind of foetus who uses her bladder for a football.

  • Aphra Behn

    Or the kind of child who uses her living-room as a football pitch

  • Robyn

    Or the toilet bowl for shoe hiding.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Ok. I’m going to play this hedgily-canny.

    I’m going to leave THIS comment NOW, coz I’m half-out the door really, but just couldn’t leave without checking the old feeds, and I will leave ANOTHER comment LATER, when I have actually properly digested the contents of what you’ve written.

  • Xbox4NappyRash

    1000? bloody hell, fair play.(is it me ;0) )

    As much at I’d loved to have set fire to that woman’s hair, I could never wish was megnath mentioned.


  • This hurts me more than it hurts you « Nuts in May

    […] be my own silly fault for being snarky about Ms Squeaky the Slightly Pregnant Over-Sharer in the last post. But still: […]

  • MsPrufrock

    I have nothing of interest to say beyond writing like this :” I stood there thinking, how very un-British of her to tell the entire coffee-shop, and also, she was clearly gestating a bat and training it to echo-locate in utero because really, the squealing.” is why you are wonderful and so damn humorous.

    My adoration for your writing is perhaps cause for concern from a stalking, I-love-you-in-a-crazy-bitch-kind-of-way perspective. Watch your back.

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