I could have just waited until tomorrow when the esteemed and busy RE office will draw my blood up into a little vial and send it off to a lab. They'll call me around 4:00 and tell me some news that will stop the echo in my head that goes am i aren't i am i aren't i am i aren't i am i aren' ti?
Today marks one week since transfer, so we know it's early. That digital readout doesn't leave much room for questioning, does it? Even when we took the stick out of the reader, it wasn't even vague.
I really would like to crawl back into bed and go back to sleep. What stupid thing we did today. And I can't even cry. Because maybe it's all wrong and tomorrow I'll be elated and this will all be a distant memory.
As Linda Ellerbee used to say, "And so it goes."