So, it being nine days post-ovulation, and with my special magic baby-saving aspirin bouncing up and down on the top of the fridge in readiness, I got up at seven am this morning and broke out the pregnancy tests.
(I didn’t want to get up at seven am. It was bloody Saturday morning. Surely one of the few Schadenfreude-tinged joys of being a barren bitch is being able to have a colossal lie-in on a Saturday morning. But my bladder insisted).
Having peed on a stick (or, in other words, peed in a mug kept specially for pee, then having dipped a stick in it), I made myself tea (in another, cleaner mug I keep for tea, because I am not feral (‘When I makes tea I makes tea, and when I makes water I makes water,’ – ‘Begob, Ma’am, God send you don’t make them in the one pot’ (Ulysses. I’m flying tonight))). And then I went back and looked at my stick and thought (eeep! Eeeep!) I saw a very, very faint line on it. (Eeeeeeeeeep).
The fucking thing had faded away completely by the end of an hour, though. Completely. No sign of the line. Mayhap I was hallucinating.
So this evening I peed on another stick, which played the exact same trick. Line, vanishing before the ten minutes were up. So I double-checked the expiry dates on the packets, and said something utterly unprintable even by my very, very lax standards, and took an aspirin anyway, because, well, they’re cheap.
The Internet Super-Sensitive Pee-Sticks of Doom expired November 2010.