I am still officially infertile.
Today’s beta was “less than 1.2” – how’s that for consistant! It’s the same as every beta I had this summer! Even cost the same! The woman who I love at the lab rolled her eyes when I told her how much it was. “It’s not a fancy test” she snorted. At least the lab people love me.
Oh, well. Oh fucking well.
JFC, I hate doing pictures in WP. Why is it so hard? Or, alternatively, why am I so dumb?
Anyway, let’s cover the kitten portion of the update! Who doesn’t love a kitten? Not me, that’s not who. How many negatives is that? Are those past sentences even sensible? To be clear, I love a kitten. Hell, I love two kittens! And, yes, I got some more kittens.
Back in the spring, May, I think, a friend’s 11 year old spent the weekend with me and, poor child, she had never been to the SPCA! Such neglect. So I took her. And I was strong, my friends. Strong. The main area of cats was full of sweet and soft kitties and we petted everyone. And I was still strong as we moved into the kitty overflow area, which is just a hallway with extra cages full of kittens. And we petted everyone of them, too. Until we got to the last cage, where I popped open the door to hold the kittens. Because I’d been strong, so I was sure I could handle a little kitten snuggle. And the little black one was so funny with his giant ear hair! What bad could come of holding him? No bad. I was sure. But then I picked him up and held him by my neck and he felt just like Walter, Jr. And I knew I had to take him home with me. But he had this sister…. I could hardly afford one more cat, let alone two. So forget it. But! It was two for one day! Two kittens for the price of one!
And so now they live with me. Walter III, who you can call Trip, and Bernice, who loves with the truest heart. I have yet to regret getting them.
(Pictures courtesy of LB, who logs her lunch, but never blogs.)
Search engine terms from today:
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See, I should have been writing all this weekend, since I am on bed rest and all. But nooooo. There have been Issues. So I am just writing now, and well, since it has been an age since I wrote two posts within a decade of each other, I will assume y’all are not surprised. But! Let’s get back on the horse, yes? Yes.
Commitment. It’s what’s for breakfast, as Bionic would tell you, if she were writing Caved, which clearly she is not, or else there would be things to read on here.
What would you like to hear about first? The bed rest or the Issues? I know! Let’s do a list! Other, better bloggers are a little touchy about lists, but I love them with a fierce and devoted love that is akin to my love for popcorn.
Here we go!
- I am on bedrest post an embryo transfer on Friday. Yes, I can’t seem to quit you, fertility procedures…. Do not ask about the state of my bank account; I don’t. This was and was not the aforementioned last ditch effort, which I mentioned afore. However, the wonder of the links in that post still stands.
- While I was busy receiving Friday’s embryos, which are certainly loving and giving, one of my cats was, I assume, hit by a car. Now, this is sad. It is. However, I’ll be honest and say that it is not nearly as sad as when other cats of mine have died. This cat, sweet pretty boy that he was, was only sort of mine. I’d taken him in to save him from a life in Manhattan, which his former owner thought would be horrible for him, and to judge by his love running about outside, I think she was right. So he lived here, although he quit coming in the house when the kittens arrived (WTF?! Kittens?). He ate on the front porch and was as friendly as you could want in a cat, galloping in from wherever he went across the street, rubbing his head against my leg. He was huge and black and gorgeous with shoulders like a football player. He would not keep a collar on. He would disappear for a day or so at a time, and loved to hunt. The bird population will not miss him. But my neighbor will. She loved him with a devotion people usually reserve for their own pets, and she has many, mind you. She is the one who found him and I might be the most sad about that. He is buried on the north side of my house, along with Bailey and Walter, Jr.
- Not to go from that to something else entirely, but Saturday morning, the toilet in my brand-new-fab-re-done downstairs bathroom started over flowing. All over my gorgeous new floor. And under the wall, into and across the hallway. Fun times! So I said “fuck bedrest” and started bailing the toilet because it was too full to plunge, and also mopping up the toilet water with every single rag I have and some throw rugs for good measure. It was horrid. And then the water level went up some more and I bailed the bucket into the sink and then bailed the toilet into the bucket some more, because the bucket was so heavy I was pretty sure I shouldn’t lift it. And the water I was bailing was *warm*. Which made me fear a huge systemic clog, since the washer was running. And then I cried and called my dad. Who came over and valiantly plunged and snaked and plunged some more, but in vain. So then I called a rooter. And called him again. And again and again. Also in vain. By 6:30, I gave up and called somebody else and he showed up and cleared the clog and talked my ear off. And then he left and I could pee. Whew.
So this has been the lest restful bed rest so far, although I have high hopes for today.
What else shall I tell y’all about? The new kittens? The down and dirty tale of exactly how my infertility goes these day with sub-topics like the draw of genetics and What Bitterness Means To Me? The roundabout of roommates? Links to some great blogs of families incorporating Montessori ideas into the spaces they make for their babies? The slippery slope that is me and tv via netflix?
You can always log your lunch while you think it over.