Torture

If you haven’t gone to give Belle and Pip some love, please do so stat.  She’s needing support right now in a major way.
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I’m waiting for two phone calls right now.  Walking around with my phone lodged on my hip all day has not been a good time.

First I’m waiting to hear from my RE.  Why am I waiting to hear from my RE?  I have no idea.  He called yesterday afternoon and left a message saying that he would call me today so we can “get things moving.”  When I talked to him last week, he told me to think about our options and then schedule an appointment for a sit down so we can make decisions about where to go next.  He said we should take our time and ponder things, so that’s what we were doing.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m ready to get moving, but he made it sound like we needed to sit tight and not do anything rash.  So we were being nice little rashless infertiles and made an appointment for his first available slot, two weeks from today.  Then he left me this random message.  Still waiting.

The second is even more torturous.  I was subpoenaed for a DSS hearing.  I’m on “standby” to testify, meaning that I only have to go in if they call me.  I can’t think of a more appropriate torture for a woman who can’t have kids.  Testifying in family court.  That should be right up there with waterboarding.  

I have a whole plan, though.  If I get the call, I will hurry and rent a van for the trip.  When I get there, I will gather up all the children I can find while muttering, “I NO CAN HAZ BABIEZ” over and over.  I’ll put them in the van, and take them home.  Maybe I’ll tease my hair for the occasion.

What? Not a good plan?  Jail time would be involved?  Children don’t actually attend DSS hearings?  Alright.  Fine.  Scratch that.

Sigh.