Please excuse me, my beloved regular Gentle Readers. I must just get a few things off my not-inconsiderable chest. You may prefer to avoid this post and return next time, as I can assure you I am not talking to any of you.
Item – If a blogger wants people to comment on her/his blog, it’s a good (logical?) idea to make sure they can. To take, ooh, a completely random example, if a blogger has a blogspot account, they might want to make sure they haven’t left the settings so only people with blogspot or google accounts can comment. As lovely as a given blog-post is, I am so not going to set up yet another account, on top of my wordpress ones, my hotmail one, my university one, my work one, my favourite forum one, my favourite forum off-shoot one, and my fertility charting one, just so I can say something on a new-to-me blog, on what might be a one-off mission. It’d be infinitely more courteous of the blogger to quickly-quickly-takes-three-minutes change his/her settings to accept openID or similar. No, I don’t mind doing word verification. Yes, I can perfectly see why a person wouldn’t want any old anonymous wing-nut barging about in the comments. Still. OpenID. Is way to go.
Item – Please don’t email me privately just to tell me how your four miscarriages and two failed IVFs trump my two (three?) miscarriages and six Clomid cycles. Of course they do. I never said they didn’t. I am well aware there are bloggers/blog-readers out there whose stories make mine look like a brisk skip through the autumn leaves in my favourite park. But, you see, my blog is about (go figure!) me. It would be very odd if it were about you, don’t you think? You’re perfectly entitled to set up your own blog and ask for your well-deserved cookies and cuddles on that. Meanwhile, as I skipped through said park, I trod on a rake. I may not have fallen in a bear-trap as you did, but my nose is bleeding right now and a hanky would be more… befitting?… than a lecture on the bigness and sharpness of the stakes you fell on. (For the record, I am writing this here instead of replying to you privately because my hand went into a sort of spasm as I read your email, and I hit ‘delete’ and then I hit ‘delete irretrievably forever’. And then I ran away and made a cup of tea and spilt said tea over carpet. When I had finished mopping and hyperventilating, I realised I couldn’t retrieve the email. This is probably for the best). (Also for the record, this email was (apparently) not from a blogger or a regular reader/lurker).
Item – To the person who, anonymously, left a ‘how exciting! Congratulations!’ comment on the post with the positive pregnancy test this morning: That photo was taken more than two weeks ago. There have been, what, ten? posts since that one. While I appreciate the sentiment, it is a good idea in general to check the most recent post on a blog if you’re late to the party. Especially on an IF blog. We are the club of Shit Happens. I’m afraid I have deleted the comment. I’m in a button-stabbing sort of mood. I do appreciate the sentiment, I swear. It’s just the timing of it that… is not quite… you know. (Incidentally, this happened last time too. *sigh*).
To those of you who read all this anyway, despite the fact it didn’t apply to you, sorry about that. I must now go and knit something at a ferociously tight tension and knock another cup of tea over.