Let’s cheer the fuck up. Yes? Yes. OK.
(OK, Bitter McTwisted is refusing to join us, and is slamming doors somewhere in the back of the subconscious, but we can manage juuuuust fine without her, can’t we?)
Good times – Last weekend we went to the theatre with friends, to see one of the best productions of Hamlet I have seen, and I have seen many-many-lots.
More good times – We had a proper dinner party with friends! And our friends had some lovely, lovely news for us, which made me happy and thrilled and only slightly wistful (and what’s more, told me, gently, by email, before-hand, so I could be wistful in peace). The food was absolutely excellent, the company a gazillion times better than that, and we had one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in a long time, staggering home at last well past one in the morning. You can bet your sweet ass we did not get out of bed the next morning (if you’re reading this, Friend Who Knows Who She Is, I know your lie-in mileage may very well have varied. Sorry about that).
Not exactly good times, but hey I’m coping – Work is stupid-busy (first week of term) and half my colleagues are driving me round the twist, mostly by being irritatingly vague and incompetent. It’s very nearly nice being The Sensible One, who swoops in and sorts out the mess and re-does everything correctly, retiring gracefully to wild applause and offers of tea, but it’s only very nearly nice. It’d be nicer to be allowed to stay at my desk with my headphones on, listening to Manu Chao and cataloguing books on medieval literature. That, to me, is a perfect afternoon. I am such a very sad geek indeed.
Meanwhile, in the file marked Innards, I note that my period is due Thursday or Friday. I have no particular feeling that I am pregnant this time (I very much felt I was pregnant last time, and kept telling myself not to be such a daft fantasist. Must remember, my Gut Instincts are reliable on this. I knew I was pregnant last Christmas as well, even though I was bleeding and it was CD16). On the other hand I have no strong feeling I’m not pregnant. My breasts are tender (they usually stop being tender about 9dpo. It’s 10dpo. Meaningless), my temperature is still high (it usually drops today. Or tomorrow. Hey! Maybe my luteal phase is getting longer!). Anyway. I peed on a stick this morning. It was negative. It’s 10dpo (did I mention that?) so it’s still, possibly, meaningless (Bitter McTwisted has stopped playing Death Metal and kicking puppies for long enough to point out I got a positive 10dpo last cycle, so hah).
Also, I put on 4 pounds over Christmas, and now they must come off again, with interest, what with The Professor’s obsession with normal BMIs. The dinner party last week was clearly my last hurrah before lettuce takes over Planet May again.
Finally, in ‘Oh, yes, H’ news, H took a semen sample to the lab on Friday. This is box-ticking, really, as he gets his wife pregnant on a ridiculously regular basis considering she’s a lazy ovulator with PCOS. Sperm of steel, that man.
All that said, I still think I need at least two good cries, a shouty fit and a day in bed with my head under the duvet pretending to be a fried egg, just to shake off this feeling of defeat and gloom properly.