Over the weekend we got a letter from GE kindly informing us that our dishwasher could potentially and possibly and also very bloody damn well likely set our house on fire. And then they offered us $300 towards a new one, presumably without the HOUSE GO KABLOOMIE feature.
Unlike when Fisher Price informed us that we were the proud owners of several toxic tub toys (assholes, by the way. and Mattel too. can't we parents buy cheap plastic crap in the likeness of brain-rotting TV characters with confidence?), we were actually happy to hear about this recall, since we thought the dishwasher was a piece of shit to begin with and planned to replace it anyway.
So we bought a shiny new dishwasher this weekend, and I am currently twiddling my thumbs and waiting for it to be delivered and installed today.
(Aren't you impressed at how good my typing still is?)
Yes, this is truly my only news to report. Yes, this is truly what my life has become.
If you read this post (go on, I'll wait, I'm thisclose to getting a traffic bonus for the month over there and I also need some damn drapes), you'll know that I was hoping to have a different sort of news for you.
I was so sure I was pregnant. It felt right. It felt...gassy. The timing of the OPK pointed towards a 34-day cycle, which was precisely what I'd had the month before, and two back-to-back same-numbered cycles were all it took for us to conceive Noah, and day 34 came and went and I got carsick on the way to dinner and my boobs hurt and I silently thanked God in all His heavenly wisdom for giving me this amazing gift right when I needed it the most and laughed at all the JUST RELAX people I could scientifically and personally tell to go to frigging hell.
I went through at least nine or 10 pregnancy tests. I kept waiting for them to tell me what I already knew. I kept waiting for the faintest trace of a second line. I ran out of tests around day 39, baffled and confused by the definitively negative results and the definitive lack of a period.
(Day 43, it showed up. FORTY THREE, WHICH MAKES NO SENSE ON ANY LEVEL.)
So I am not pregnant, and I don't think I actually ovulated after all, and I also think I am completely crazy and delusional and can apparently will fake pregnancy symptoms into existence through the power of my crazy delusional mind. So. Bonus!
Anyway. That was this month. It sucked. Good riddance, month!
Hello, next month.
Me = nuts, and still not understanding that I'd be better off just tossing dollars into the toilet and peeing on them directly, and also does anybody have one of those fancy expensive fertility monitor types that you aren't using?
(I will now go back to trying to get Noah to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on video, because he substitutes MAMA for all the words, and after you hear it you can't possibly blame me for wanting 10 more just like him.)