Where were we?
Oh yes. A whole baby creation type effort was underway, not going so well, yada, yada, yada, 19 months, yada, yada, yada, and we finally get surgery scheduled to have a wee poke around inside the wee wifey.
Up to speed? Good.
Due to their own bollox up at the hospital, the delightful folk there decided to cancel the laparoscopy yesterday.
Cue blood pouring from ET's eyes and ears and the occasional expletive from her lips.
Ever the optimist, I looked on the bright side, bumping uglies was back on the menu, so I ran into town to pick a new tiger print thong.
No sooner was I back at my desk when ET informed me that the hospital had rang, apologised, and un-cancelled the laparoscopy for Tuesday, but only if she could come in Friday for all the preparation.
Cue another 4 pints of blood gushing from ET's eyes and ears, and a couple more colourful phrases questioning the doctor's parentage.
Having been utterly messed around in the space of an hour or two, she was left kind of like a condom on a drunkard, not really sure if she was inside out or not.
As disappointed as I was that I wouldn't get to try out my Tarzan thong, it's for the best, even if I am worried my groin may spontaneously combust in the coming weeks.
In the blog world it's popular to give days of the week a theme name, Wordless Wednesdays, Topless Thursdays, Feet Fetish Fridays and all the rest.
Therefore, now that it's probably, almost certain, very likely, mostly feasible that the surgery will go ahead, I'd like to present to you:
"Hack your wife's guts open & get a day off work Tuesdays".
Admit it, it's catchy isn't it?