Here I am *waving*.
I haven't forgotten anyone, it's just that there's not much going here in our household. It's been pretty boring, actually-as it usually is when there's no poonanny-related business going on (also known as "cycle hell"). But, I'm sure that all that will change on the 29th, since I have the "failed cycle" appointment. I've written down my list of questions for Dr. Pipsqueak (including the lap or no lap question), but really, what's there to say? Ergh.
Another cycle, another $20K. Ho-hum. Just another day in the life of an infertile, right?
So, we've (or should I say "Sean", but I'll be nice, for a change-we ARE a unit, after all) been having some flatulence issues over here. Let's just say that, should you have the opportunity to enter our home, you would need a respirator gas mask to combat the noxious cloud of ASS that has permeated any area that the hubs has even briefly walked through. I think it started on Saturday night, when we went to a friend's for dinner (Baja Fresh takeout). For some reason, the takeout place fucked up and gave us doubles of our entire order (boo!), yet didn't charge us (YAY!).
Of course, Sean's extra-large-could-feed-a-small-Amazonian-village burrito had beans inside. And since we took some of the leftovers, he got to enjoy them on Sunday and Monday for lunch. I, of course, didn't enjoy it AT ALL. In fact, I think that there are not only skids on the sheets from the sharting, but there is a green cloud that is constantly surrounding my husband, a la Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoons. I mean, the CATS have been looking for a way out, people-they even prefer sitting in the dirty litterbox rather than go near Sean. They RUN away when he comes in the door, and Peachy starts howling as if in pain (which she more than likely is, since she's probably holding her breath). Buddy, not being extremely vocal, has been writing his Last Will and Testament, "just in case", as he confided in me. I'm surprised that the smoke alarm hasn't been set off, actually.
So, please..................anyone want another husband? Pretty please?
Our respiratory systems will hearily thank you.......