Because mine has been fanfuckingtastic so far.
That is if you are a sadist and like barfing 10,000 times a day, then having mysterious bleeding which leaves you stranded in your bed whilst your children covertly remove every toy from their closet and LEAVE IT IN YOUR BED so that you wake up with a plastic dinosaur and a piece of Lego stuck to your neck, having your husband cancel his DREAM trip because $40 grand worth of his equipment goes ablaze, having your mother snuffle valiantly on the phone every time she calls because, people, she WON'T GET TO SEE US and the biggest injustice of all, having your wireless card die so that you CAN'T ACCESS THE INTERNET FROM YOUR TOY-STREWN BED.
Oh, the humanity.
Okay, Dear Internet, here's the sitch. My most fabulous husband got me knocked up and now I'm having mysterious bleeding which the doctor says may or may not be a sign of miscarriage. *Glad he can be so waffley* So, I've been doing a lot of crying and barfing and barfing and crying from my bed, oh and watching a hell of a lot of daytime TV. Which blows. I mean really. There is nothing good on TV during the day, or even at night for that matter. Stupid summer schedule.
So let's recap, shall we?
- Rogue sperm enters my body and begats possible soon-to-be baby.
- News met with much shock and awe.
- Crying jag starts.
- Xtreme barf-fest(tm) commences.
- Packing and shopping for trip begins.
- Children get out of school and demand to be entertained all day long.
- Husband's crew watches a lot of equipment and money go up in smoke.
- Husband decides to postpone trip due to fire, new Copper Leaf store and general heart palpitations due to stress.
- Bleeding appears.
- Bed rest begins.
- Yearning for internet appears.
- Bleeding stops.
- Mashed potato craving begins.
- Spend days in pool floating, reading and dreaming about mashed potatoes.
- Bleeding reappears.
- Embryo obviously hates tuber veggies.
- Bed rest resumes.
- Boredom causes me to allow husband/children to plan a yard sale.
- House is now listed as an official HellHole (tm).
- Stress level now at Mach 4329 due to internet withdrawl, plasticky toys in my bed, constant barfing, mountains of laundry that needs to be done, impending yard sale (shudder), the thought that people think I actually like yard sales, lack of quality TV programs, the amount of dust on my bedroom fan and the fact that I'm not having marital relations during the one time when my hormones are running amok and I feel like Jenna Jameson with these new boobies.
Many, many apologies to my friends (BFFs and lurkers alike) who wrote me, phoned me and sent me snail mail. Y'all are too sweet and I really, really, rilly appreciate it. Especially the tenacity of J. who called my in-laws and begged them for my phone number, even though she could have been a stalker who wanted to kill me and cut off my hair and make a nice sweater from it. (I should really have a talk with the in-laws about being so laissez-faire with my phone number - Sheesh.)
So, Dear Internet, I just wanna say I MISS THEE & I HEART YOU ALL and I shall be online much more very soon, as the doctor thinks I can get up and do more than just pee and barf now. So. Yay. And if the husband doesn't buy me a new WI-FI card soon, he can kiss the many years of oral good-bye because it's his damn fault that his sperm got where it did and that I missed the sidewalk sale at the mall.