I had a post all written - published, even - and then discovered that the reason it seemed so familiar to me (not to mention easy to write) was because I'd already written it. I thought I'd only noodled it around in my head. I'd completely forgotten that I finished and served the noodles days ago.
Clearly I'm losing what's left of my mind.
Case in point:
I stood in a store this afternoon explaining to a puzzled looking clerk that I couldn't decide between two dresses and needed to buy both so I could let my husband choose which one I should keep.
I was truly incapable of picking one over the other. So, of course, instead I opted to make it appear as though I live in 1940 and need my husband's stamp of approval on everything I'm wearing before being allowed to leave the house.
Seriously, she was looking at me with such open scorn and disgust. And then she proceeded to wrinkle up her nose and tell me that the brown dress was a terrible choice for my colouring. Even though I hadn't asked for her opinion. And wanted to shove something directly up that wrinkled little nose.
I was too tired to bother being swayed. I liked the brown dress. It was flattering (a rare thing for me). I didn't feel like trying on the wild blue and white Hawaiian print number she thought would be a better choice. And, frankly, even I had mustered up the energy, it was hideous. Not even close to the style of the brown dress she thought was so heinous.
In the end I came home with my two dresses, drank a big glass of water, sat down for a while and eventually managed to find enough energy to do some mindless tasks around the house.
I'm tired. I'm dreading the return to the fertility clinic tomorrow. I'm utterly dumbfounded that this marks the start cycle #51.
But My Beloved loved the dresses - especially the brown one - and he said I should keep them both.
Sometimes having too much in your head and being incapable of making decisions pays off. I'll be the best dressed broken uterus at the clinic. Lucky me.