It’s 8:30 a.m. and Hubby has gone to make his contribution.  I chose not to go since it’ll be one of the few times that I can, in fact, stay home & sleep.  Lately I only seem to sleep well between 5 a.m. and get-the-hell-up, so I’m glad I did.  Hubby’s appointment was 7:15, and as of his last phone call he’ s still sitting there waiting, not surprising.   I should get a phone call in a couple of hours from my doctor, and next to her drawing-upside-down abilities this is where my doctor really shines, because she generally refers to herself as Firstname Lastname, instead of Doctor Lastname.  This says so much, particularly "we’re talking girl-to-girl, even though I just stuck a big needle in your hoo-hoo and sucked out your vital life essence for which you now owe me $12,000."  Anyway, the doctor will call and tell me how many eggs they got.

We were pretty nervous yesterday and last evening, which I dealt with by immersing myself in the climactic final episodes of "Prison Break" with a bowl of ice cream in hand.  Which I justified in this way.  This is beyond stupid since the study was concered with anovulatory infertility, which means failing to ovulate, which was never my problem.  No, my eggs have been popping out every month right on time.  We just don’t know what the heck they did after that.  Maybe they were yelling "yoo hoo" and the sperm couldn’t get there through the magic forest of endo that is growing Down There.  Maybe they were hostile and changed the subject every time the sperm tried to strike up a conversation.  Who knows. 

Of course, at this moment, I am suffering from anovulation because of the Lupron, which I shoot myself with every day so I won’t ovulate during this cycle, because for goshsakes we wouldn’t want me to get pregnant.  It reminds me of the party a friend and I threw on Sunday, where one guest (and there is always one, isn’t there) completely, abjectly failed to RSVP.  This was kind of a prissy party, not just kickin’ it, all up in here at somebody’s crib, dawg.  There was an Evite so we could see for three weeks that she had "viewed the invitation", and then when I finally emailed her the Friday before, asking if she was coming, she also didn’t answer.  She then called the hostess on Saturday saying "Oh, I can come," as if the hostess had been privy to some earlier conversation in which the errant guest had told someone (her dog? the Lord?) that she could not come.  I think sometimes people read an email and then speak their response to their computer, out loud.  This is (uh, sort of?) understandable.  The problem comes when they then think that we heard them.  I was able to be gracious to her at the party which in itself is proof of the existence of God. 

Are you following me? I’m not.  So THAT is why I’m taking the Lupron.  Even though the chance that an egg will fail to RSVP and then show up is pretty remote.  This is why eating the ice cream was stupid, especially since we have outsourced all egg production to a 22-year-old from another state.  But it was soooo good.