Title of post says it all, really.
As I was staring glumly at the depressingly low number on the digital read-out on said thermometer, H leaned over and asked me what it was. And then he was glum too.
There was much counting and recalculating of days this morning, because if I am now 11dpo (chart says so, at least), my period could start any time between tomorrow and Monday (no, I do not have a regular luteal phase. Why on earth would I have a regular luteal phase? That’s for normal women), and we had tickets for amusingness on Monday evening, and tickets for a concert on Tuesday evening, and any way I slice it, I’ll be in A Bad Way for at least one and almost certainly both of these events, and it is NOT FAIR *stamps little princess feet*.
H wondered if I should take the low-dose aspirin for a couple of days anyway, in case it at the very least dealt with the ‘clot colic’ aspect of The Horror To Come by lessening the, err, clots. I wonder it too, now. Perhaps I shall try it and report back. Once I’ve checked interactions with all the other painkillers I have stacked on top of the fridge. (What? I like unnerving visitors to my kitchen. A girl’s got to get her fun somewhere).
Anyway. I am feeling very glum. I do not want to be shoved back into the Ocean of Ovulatory Limbo. I do not want to start all over again. I do not want to get my period. Not at all.