I feel compelled to write because I'm well stressed tonight. We started our final course of IVF yesterday. Medication has been mixed and my lovely wife's belly has been stabbed a few times. Then this afternoon she got a call from the clinic querying something that we know is ok but they don't think is ok. We are under the care of a consultant who himself has had to go into hospital so is going to be away from the clinic for a few weeks. Whilst I appreciate his predicament - it doesn't help us. As with "normal" pregnancies - stress should be to a minimum, and it's not.
Luke's being a complete arse this evening. He's being proper cheeky and refusing to do anything that is asked of him.
After waking up this afternoon, I moved all the furniture in the lounge and dining room out of it's place and dusted, mopped, and dis-infected everywhere in an attempt to deter that horrible bastard mouse. Anyway - within an hour of finishing it, it was running round again. Fucker.
My lovely wife has taken to watching So You Think You Can Dance. I admit, I did not sit down and watch the whole episode, nor have I watched it from the start, but my god - what a complete load of shite.
Luke has really started to develop his imagination over the last week or so. This evening, he sat relaying a conversation between some of his engines. It was lovely.
Oh - gossip. Some bloke was shot in the face on the land behind our house earlier on today. I say behind - if you leave our house and turn right - just up there. The police knocked (not all of them - just one) earlier to ask if I'd seen anything. I hadn't - so she want off in search of the perpetrator.
Whilst ironing my way through a mountain of clothes earlier, I was listening to my ipod. It threw out two "excellent" songs. They were....
And the rather cheesy.....
Ah the memories......
