Item: When did I last post? Dear God, it was only Tuesday? I feel like it was at least ninety-seven days ago.
Item: Busy-swamped at work – did I mention that? – and also I am applying for the second half of my own job, so flustered at work, must impress Alpha Boss.
Item: And then, and then, on Wednesday, we went out to a concert in the evening, and during the concert the day’s vague feeling of grouchy nausea became somewhat of a belly-ache, and I was becoming rather nervous on the train home, and because the gods decided I needed a teeny weeny break they did in fact let me get all the way home before unleashing the Dire Rear. Which led to a deeply unpleasant and boring evening trapped in the bathroom, and several emergency leapings-out-of-bed in the small hours, and Thursday spent curled up in a ball, too terrified to fart, and eventually very tentatively ingesting white rice and chicken soup (well, I am a bit Jewish, and if I believe in anything, I believe in Chicken Soup). To my horror, Thursday morning H was getting ready for work when whatever-the-damn-bug-was had a go at him too, so he spent Thursday quietly sat in the loo with his iPhone.
Item: Went back to work on Friday, despite feeling somewhat… drained… and was terribly efficient all day. Also, have lost three pounds this week. Damn and blast, but gastroenteritis is effective.
Item: Saturday, out with friends. This was very nice indeed, also, see? I do to have friends.
Item: Sunday, was supposed to be out with friends, woke up with SODDING headache, spent most of day in bed again, fiddling about with my job application and generally feeling perfectly bloody. So we watched 300. Moral gained, if in doubt, push an elephant off a cliff. (Also, about the elephant thing, David Wenham is in 300, and he was also in Lord of the Rings. He could have told the Persians that war elephants just don’t bloody work. Honestly).
Item: I have my provera and all my extra clomid, and I’m all set to end this pointless cycle of pointlessness, but H and I did sums, and if I take the provera now we may well be on holiday the other end of the country when I shall need to be scanned (and on a double dose of clomid, why, yes, I would like to be scanned, thank you). If I wait until next weekend to start the provera, then I probably won’t be at the other end of the country when I need to be scanned. After much logic, calm discussion of pros and cons, and a great deal of counting on one’s fingers, I agreed it was probably best to leave the provera until next weekend.
Item: This is now pissing me off. One more week of waiting seems like a freaking eternity. Oh God, how badly I wanted to be pregnant again before the anniversary of the miscarriage. And now there’s no, absolutely none, no, chance at all of that. Fuck my life.