Item – 6dpo. Every nerve in my body is shrilling ‘pee on something! Pee! Pee!’. And when I ask them, for the love of God, why? It’s only 6dpo, they all look sheepish. And start clamouring for carbohydrates in obscene quantities.
Item – I have several days off work over the Easter weekend. Wheeeee! And so does H. Double wheeeeee! Only, my period is due on that Thursday, meaning I shall spend the first two days of said holiday Being Delicate. Arse. Or, if I’m really lucky, I’ll be pregnant, so I’ll be spending the last two days of it Being Hideously Distressed. (Oh, come on. Of course I’m being bleak. The odds, they are against me).
Item – We’re spending this weekend with the in-laws. Yes. The in-laws I am feeling all harrumphy about (see previous post). Big family do – I shall be wearing a blouse instead of a tee-shirt and everything – so I shall be keeping my harrumphery to myself. As ever. I vented irritably all over H last night instead. Poor H.
Item – H is anxsty. You know, I think he’s taking the whole ‘and every holiday must be ruined!’ thing quite seriously. Perhaps I should stop joking about it. Perhaps I should stop snarling at him because I’m peeved with his family for being dillweedy avoiders about the fact their only daughter-in-law is a habitual aborter.
Item – H and I are spending a daft amount of time telling each other that we’re getting back on the diet wagon, oh yes, let’s shift this squidge, let’s look svelte as dolphins by the summer wedding season. And then we order pizza. Must do better.
Item – But enough of my vapouring. Go hug HFF.