Due to normally being in a daze until they are almost over, I've never really had an issue with Mondays.
Today, I don't like Mondays. Today is cycle day 1, again.
Yep, again. For the 28th time.
There is something ridiculous about having used up all your fingers and toes for counting failed cycles on. When you've exhausted your testicles, penis, and useless manly nipples, and are patting yourself down in the search for sticky-out bits to count on, you should probably just stop altogether.
At the bus stop at least.
Exhausted is apt actually. Along with weary, weak, tired, spent, and any other of the many pitiful adjectives you can muster.
On the other hand, we'll get through this one - just, thanks to knowing we now have a shot at IUI again.
ET will start sucking on the Satan sweets from Wednesday to Sunday, a quarter of the previous dose. Hopefully her innards won't end up looking like something from Chernobyl again, and we can go ahead with the IUI this time.
In the delusional state of staying positive, all that would happen before the end of next week.
A fortnight from now, we could be pregnant.
Did you laugh manically at that line? No?