Item – Oh, crikey, blogging. I knew I’d forgotten something.
Item – The anniversary weekend away was lovely, thank you. Really lovely.
- The landlady of the B&B, who had already brought us tea and home-made cakes, rushed away to fetch a bottle of pink bubbly and a congratulatory card the second H let slip that, well, yes, actually, our 5th wedding anniversary was that very day.
- H and I both like cathedrals. Going to see a cathedral is really truly our idea of a good time. So, H took me to visit a cathedral I’d never seen but had been going on and on (and on and on and on) about for pretty much as long as he’s known me.
- Ely Cathedral is… extraordinary. I have yet to see a single photo that does it any kind of justice at all. And it really does float on the vast flat horizon like a ship.
- We also scored two Marsh Harriers, a Heron, a Grasshopper Warbler and a possible Bearded Tit (no jokes, please). It seems I like Twitching, too. God, but I’m a sad, nerdy sort of person. I must order a cagoule and sew badges to it at once.
Item – It is with considerable annoyance that I must report that Satsuma has not been cooperating in the least. In fact, my basal body temperature chart has been pretty much describing the Sawtooth Range, my *cough* fertile signs have been coming and going and contradicting each other, I felt sick, I felt dizzy, I felt tetchy. I was so very hormonal and weird-feeling, in fact, that I even took a pregnancy test the other day (resoundingly, eye-achingly negative, (because you haven’t even ovulated yet, you moron)). It’s day 29 of this cycle. I had hoped we had put the days of hormonal dead cat bounce behind us. Apparantly not. Feck. Arse. And so on.
Item – H and I managed to blow all the cuddly weekend-in-luxury vibe by having a monumental row. About sex, of all things. We have great (or at least, acceptable) sex for weeks on end, and then suddenly neither of us can do a thing right and we tip into a disagreeable vortex of FAIL. I don’t think Satsuma’s shenanigans helped either. It’s hard to be rational and good-tempered about The Sex, It Fall Down when being persistently flustered about whether one has, or has not, or will, or will not, or will have been going to, miss ovulation entirely this cycle, what with The Sex, It Has Fallen Down And Can’t Get Up.
Item – It really, really doesn’t help that we both still seem to be scared half-witted by the very idea of getting pregnant again.
Item – So we’ve booked another appointment with the counsellor we found last year. During which, no doubt, we’ll both be far, far too embarrassed to talk about sex, and I will have to bring up miscarriages two-through-four and cry myself puce.
Item – Work is stupid and boring and very bloody there, gurning at me and demanding that I get up at 7am and actually, you know, care about how clean my hair is. Yes, yes, I know, I have no right to bitch about my job at all, as it is quiet (mostly) and low-stress (mostly) and my employers have been angelic about my endless sick days. On the other hand, I am underemployed and frustrated and my brain is turning to lettuce and I get paid less than half what H gets paid despite having two (2!) whole degrees more than him. But hey! There’s a recession on and everything! Shutting up about the job now!