I think I can, I think I can

Ovulate, that is. These poor lil' ovaries are havin' a time of it this month. Twice now, I've gotten a decent temp spike that drops the next day. Of course, I think each time I see it, "That has got to be it". Then...down it goes. Finally today, after 12 days of OPKs - a positive.
So we did it. Wham bam thank you ma'am style. Got the job done. Quick and dirty. You get the point. You hear a lot in the land of ttc about the importance of not allowing sex to solely be about creating a spawn. But I am here to tell you that there is something to be said for the um...well, the deposit on demand technique.

The Bleeding Tongue

Let me tell you about my mother fucking day. First, I overslept. Once I finally got up, I rushed to work for an early morning meeting, which I ended up missing. I'm starving, so I swing by McD's, proceed to scarf down a heavenly mcmuffin(my one saving grace today) and what then....I bite my tongue. Hard. It bled. I cried. And cursed the world.
Tomorrow is friday at least. Thank the baby jesus.

I'm a whack job.

I am currently so stressed out that I can't even poop. That's right. My obsession with things that need to get done soon, has left me constipated. Lovely, I know.
I also have been unable to prioritize my "to do's" thus leaving me overwhelmed and not doing any of them. ::sigh::
At least there's always Vegas. Next week, baby!

I've been in the closet all night

5 hours to be exact. 5 gruelling hours. So, here's a confession: I hate to do laundry. Therefore, I have been unable to see the floor of my closet for an absurd length of time. So today, I decide that I can not live like that anymore. Let me just say that I am fucking exhausted, sore, and can't stop sneezing from the dust floating around in my now clean closet. Whew!
But now, my closet has a floor!

I officially suck.

I haven't written about anything interseting in quite some time. Just the same "pregnant", "pregnant not" bullshit. Ugh, if I was my friend I would totally ignore my calls right now.
It's hard. This ttc business. I once heard or read that ttc was very tough on the relationship as a whole. I thought to myself at that time, "it'll be great, such and exciting journey". Blah fucking blah. It sucks ass. Almost as much as I do.

Pretty charts are a cock tease.

My chart rocks. Triphasic. High temps all the way to 12 dpo. Neg hpt.
Tomorrow is a new day and will probably bring a plumeting temp, leaving me with BFP blue balls. I'm over it.

Piggy Flu

The insanity has got to stop. I am, however, sick. And it sucks.
In other news, I woke up this morning to Mr. J staring at me saying, "Is it time to POAS?"
Ah the proverbial question. But the answer at 8dpo is no. Every time. Now, let me tell you, I am a pee-er. I have no qualms about the number of sticks I pee on or the frequency of said peeing. So, we wait. At least until 11dpo.