If the Lupron doesn't kill me, this sickness will. I've lovingly contracted the sickness that Partner has had since before Christmas. She assures me she's on the mend now, but she also woke me up all last night with her cough-cough-coughing. Do I believe the beautiful love of my life? No. I do love her, very much, but admit that I don't like her very much at the various wee hours of the morning as she hacks or snores through her poor congested nose. This morning she awoke very early for a very early meeting. As she was leaving, she instructed me to stay in bed for as long as I needed (What, all day
?) and I should just come into the office whenever. Was she being loving life Partner or loving business partner, or both? (Knowing my partner, she was being both.) Beyond all the regular sickness blahs, I wonder if I don't get over this soon, if it's potentially cycle concealing? I have nearly a month before I have to worry about doing anything other than sticking Partner with some needles, but then again, if this is the same sickness she's had, I could be sick for nearly that long...
Classes started yesterday, and although I know nothing about my students yet other than how shiny and eager their faces looked on the first day, I feel good so far. I love the material I am teaching, and told them so. However, when going over the calendar for the term, I noted to them that they might have at least one, at the most two days of class cancelled in the first few weeks of February. As I said that I realized I know nothing
yet, other than the fact that we've been suppressed by Lupron. We don't know how Partner will respond this time around to stims, how many follicles, how many eggs, how many fertilized, how many get to blast stage-- none of those things are sure things at this point. And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure how suppressed one of us is (not me) since there has been an entire (warning tmi coming) full and heavy period already. It doesn't seem quite right to me. When we called the clinic, they didn't sound too concerned, but then again, it's a new nurse, and we're struggling all over again with the nurse trying to tell us apart.
Last night we had a mega-shopping trip at one of my favorite stores, Costco. I love Costco, although lately they've dramatically cut down their book table, and I haven't found anything there I want to read or haven't read already. There's a Costco ritual-- come into the store, get a soda, meander around aisles and look at stuff we have no intention of buying. Then, I'll look at the books, Partner will look at the computer programs. Next, enter the food section and debate about whether or not we need more salmon, will I cook the pork tenderloin, do we really need that much cheese? And no, we've bought toilet paper the last three times we were at Costco, and we've got enough toilet paper to see us through retirement. ("But you never know" I say.) And then we'll look at the flowers and always, always
, we both comment on how beautiful they are (and we both adore cut flowers in the house) but we also lament how Costco flowers seem to wilt and die within mere days of getting them home, and so even though we want that amazing bouquet, we won't buy it. And then, finally, we look at the baby/kid clothes. Sometimes they are horrible, but a lot of the time, they are adorable and such a good deal, and we'll hold outfits up for each other and comment on where the babe might wear such an outfit. ("Out to dinner when we're in Charleston." "At a summer bbq birthday at your aunt and uncles." "To dinner at the club.") Yesterday, I saw a woman holding up a sleeper and Partner said, "Wanna go look?" and I said no and kept pushing our cart. Interestingly, this felt very powerful and I don't regret it for a minute.
Finally, we are leaving this week for Florida. At ass crack dawn on Thursday, and there is still so fucking much to do, I dread the trip because of that. The Christmas tree is almost
down-- that means that everything, including the lights, is off the tree, but the behemoth still stands in the family room. Ideally I'd like for the entire house to be de-Christmasfied before we leave and all Christmas ornamentation packed up and in the basement. It's looking highly unlikely, but at least the fire hazard will be leaving the house before we do. I am also fairly anal about having the house clean before we leave for a trip. There's nothing better than coming home to a clean as a whistle house. But here is where the taking down of the Christmas decor is a double edged sword: It means tramping up and down the basement stairs, which means dragging a lot of dust up and down, and even more cleaning. I have no idea when this will get done. I need to go to work eventually, and also have to leave that workplace by 5:00, to get to a 6:00 class which Partner and I are both taking. Tomorrow equals driving downtown Detroit again to teach, hopefully finding time to go to Borders because I am without a book and that, my friends, is a true Katie emergency, iron summerish clothes for the trip, take down the lights outside, do 500 things I am forgetting about right now, pack, go to the class again, which means from 6-10, and then come home, hit the hay so we can wake up at ass crack dawn in order to get to the plane. But don't be deceived by the word, "Florida." We aren't going for R & R, we're going for the International Builders Show
, where we will find a myriad of new and interesting products to help us build homes. (And also, perhaps a few fun ideas for our new house I am pretty sure we are going to build across the street from my current home. ) We're there for a few days after the show ends, and we've finally and definitively decided not to do any Disney because neither of us has much interest and instead, sitting at the beach near the ocean with some good books and wine sounds far better. Hopefully the weather will cooperate. But even if it doesn't, we've sat at the beach in the rain before. We're both in love with the ocean.
And then we come home and still
have a week left before stims (hopefully) start...