Hello again. I am a grouchy May at the moment. I will now bitch and snivel some more. Sorry about that.
I saw the acupuncturist again on Monday. She was disappointed that the last surf on the Red Menace sucked (hey! Guess what! So was I!). And then she was mystified that the last surf etc. had sucked, because my belly is noticeably warmer to the touch. Warm bellies don’t get prolonged and violent cramps, you see. They’re too busy being all warm and mellow, unlike cold ones, which have blockages and are stagnating (sounds disgusting). I did not laugh. Nor did I mention Ben Goldacre or randomised double-blind trials. I am a gentlewoman.
She then proceeded to stick me all over like a pineapple hedgehog and set fire to me again (we will warm this belly, we will warm it to heck). Some of these burning needles were to stimulate ovulation, which was fine by me, as Monday was Day 13 and not only was Satsuma playing dead, but the old undercarriage was remaining resolutely sterile, hostile, abandon hope all sperm who enter here. And then the acupuncturist amused herself by needling me in the wrist – allegedly to aid the anxiety and insomnia – which really fucking hurt, to my woeful astonishment. Not only that, but when I got home, I found one of the wristy-stab-points had grown a deeply, lavishly purple bruise. WTF?
Anyway, I haven’t slept at all well all week. Not impressed. I think she borked my meridian.
On the other hand, on Tuesday Satsuma sat up on her velvet cushion and gave notice she was considering things. And whenever I think she has forgotten and dozed off again, she gives me another quick jab in the lower abdomen and orders me to have faith. So. We shall see. On past form, it normally takes her an absolute minimum of a week to go from hibernation to pop. I’ll get back to you on this after the weekend.
This does, however, mean that H and I are, as we agreed, having lots of sex. Hurray, I’d’ve normally said. Unfortunately, this month (it’s probably being tired that does it) I am having to a fight a low-grade persistant urge to snarl ‘get off me‘ everytime H dutifully snuggles up in bed. At least, I hope it’s being tired that does it. I’m normally the one taking flying leaps at H from behind doors and interfering with him during phone conversations while he stoically tries to pry my hands off his trouser-buttons without squeaking. Current state of affairs surprisingly mortifying. We soldier on regardless. And if, after all this anxst, Satsuma is playing me false, I shall have her resectioned. HA.
And I have started my creative writing course. I spend all my time at work wishing work would go away so I could play about with my writing exercises, and all my time at home watching TV and wishing I was asleep. It’s going brilliantly. Pass the Kalms.