Well I’m at work but I’m sick as a dog. I’m cranky because I didn’t get asleep all night. I amused myself by kicking DW and waking him up at random intervals. He amused both himself and the cat by shining a light in my eyes at 6 am as I finally drifted off “to check if I had made it through the night”. I bet people are really jealous of our relationship.
I couldn’t take the day off because you need a sick certificate from a doctor to take the day off. And I don’t like my doctor. For some reason, she’s convinced that I either am or am trying to get pregnant. I could literally walk into her office with blood gushing from the stump that used to be my arm screaming that I got mangled by a tractor and she would still nod knowingly and say, “I bet I know what you’re here for. You’re pregnant.” (Yes, your arm can get mangled by a tractor. Also, by chimpanzees. That’s not part of the thread, it’s just a safety tip.)
I wouldn’t mind so much but she likes to withhold medicine from me “just in case” I really am pregnant. And then she asks if I would like to do a test. Which is fine, but the way she’s looking at me makes me feel like she has hopes of not only getting a positive result but also of cutting the aforementioned baby out of my stomach and raising it as her own. I’ve mentioned it to Dr L but she told me I need to be less paranoid. (Last week I worked late for a full hour because I didn’t want to leave the office because I was convinced there was a rapist in the parking garage. It was just a bag of trash, but still. Better safe than sorry.)
I’ve bluntly told her that 95% of the time I don’t know where my husband is and when he’s not out there doing whatever the hell it is that he does, he’s certainly not over here doing...well, me. I don’t think she believed me. What a weirdo. I bet she has a closet full of pee sticks at home.