Messy

Tipsy blogging might be one of the greatest things about being in the waiting period for IVF. 

1) I'm not preggo yet, and I'm not yet actively trying to be preggo...thus, no need to cut out the luscious vino that I sipped this evening...
2) I'm waiting to start IVF.  I need a drink.

Today was a busy day, a hot day.  We're inching up in the temperatures in my hometown, and believe me- this place gets H.O.T!  I had to walk between buildings at the office today three times.  I was wearing a full black suit.  I had black high heels on.  It was disgusting.  Summer, please hold off for a little bit longer.  I don't want winter anymore, but it's not summertime yet, is it?

B and I were discussing my blog this evening.  He's a big fan of the quote of the day from yesterday.  We were deciding on quotes of the day from today.  There's too many to choose from.

From the office:

"It must be the hamburgeler.  He's back!"
Seriously, you've got to hear this.  We are in a very large office- several buildings.  But each department has their own stories.  One dept several years ago had a thief.  A person who would go into the break room and - get this - would steal the meat out of sandwiches and leave the bread.  This person would open lunch bags in the fridges and drink half of the soda can, then put it back.  We called "him" the "Hamburgeler" It was unbelievable. 

Well, we had ice cream bars for a birthday yesterday. (I told you so)  And we didn't finish them all on my team.  So I put them in the freezer.  24 hours later I went to get the rest out to serve to the team again.  Well, I put four boxes of ice cream bars in the freezer.  Someone stole two whole boxes. A box of drumsticks and a box of strawberry shortcake bars.  I loved those strawberry shortcake bars.  What kind of person would do something so horrible? bastards.

Home:
"You're just a cute little mess."

I'm three glasses of wine in.  I've already spilled some wine on B while trying to pour him his second glass. I'm now sprawled on the couch; half lying on him, half trying to suck up the cool air from the fan above us.  I start getting feisty and saying unnecessarily obnoxious things.  I get overly sensitive.  I scream at the basketball game on tv... I hate that horrible flopping jerk who keeps making all of his shots... I proceed to raise my arm in anger at said man.  I then hit B in the face.  He jumps.  I get sensitive. I say unnecessary things of a ridiculously comical nature.  Thus: "You're just a cute little mess..."

::watermelon::

Lesson # I can't remember:
"He may get dumb when he's drunk. But you cry like a little girl and chase things that aren't around you." classic. true. devastating. ;)  College was an innocent time...