Did one last pootle out with N on Wednesday or Thursday, and then called it for about 3 weeks. Made it to 491 miles so far this year, and, regardless of what happens with this round of IVF, I reckon I can get in another 9, either with angry disappointed running or with gentle pleased jogging. Naturally we are hoping for the latter.
Seems to make me fart lots (or maybe that was the inordinate quantity of dairy custard I had yesterday?) Every single injection looms, leaving me in a state of mild angst, wanting to get it over and done with now-now-now. And then have a celebratory chocolate. Went and read the internet to make me feel vaguely competent at all of this. Scans on Wednesday, Friday, Monday and then de-egging on Wednesday week. Am not yet so bloated that I need my larger jeans and jammie bottoms (thank you ebay). I am on early on call this week, so my super lovely colleague in Australia is taking the first hour for me so I am not condemned to get up and stab myself in the stomach well before 7am every day (for morning injections, there is a 15 minute window. For evenings, 2 hours). I am lolling at home for the duration. No travelling in to the office. And my lovely boss has given me the whole day off for scan days.
Nearly done on G’s socks. Would be done but for missing half a repeat on the second leg, only realising after I had finished the foot, having to rip back, managing to knit the wrong half of the repeat, ripping back again, and then getting it right. So I still have a foot to go there.
Have managed to finish the wand for the zombie fairy. This has involved superglue and supergluing the pearl coating from one of the beads to my finger. Will I ever learn? I live in perpetual fear of supergluing my fingers either to each other or to something more inconvenient while using the stuff. It is, I fear, only a matter of time.
Mysteries of Uldopho: about 1/4 of the way through. Emily is still wet, hardly surprising given the tendency of the period to produce the dampest heroines in history. Still have no clue who or what Uldopho is, let alone what his mysteries are. Not entirely sure I actually care. Thoroughly enjoyed Sue Perkins’ autobiography. Working my way through the Peter Wimsey stories again, and considering the Campion stories after that. Easy reading.