Anti-climax

Well, fuck-a-doodle-do. I think we missed the window of opportunity. E. turned up last night, bearing vast amounts of decadent food to help me feed my cold. Including a gigantic chocolate fudge cake- is he prescient, or just sweet?

While he was unloading everything I snuck off to the bathroom to ascertain whether there were signs that we might still be in business. (Another bit of rhyming slangage for ya-"Cervical position=fingers on a mission".) Temping was useless this month since I had been running a fever on and off for most of the week which had thrown everything out of whack. But I find that the old mucus test tends to be the best barometer for me.

So there I am, foraging around only to discover that the vast amount of fertile goo I had been secreting for most of the week had DRIED UP. Completely gone. Gone, gone, gone. And for me, once it's gone, that's it. Ovulation has passed me by.

To say I wasn't in the mood anyway would be an understatement, what with my having to pause every five minutes for extended coughing fits. But I think if there had been a chance, I would have made a real effort- and I know E. would have.

I am frustrated. Much as I hate the goddam two week wait, at least I usually have some scrap of hope to hold on to and sustain me during that time. Missing ovulation without having so much as attempted to put sperm near egg is just...lame. It's a complete anti-climax, in more ways than one.

I feel like I have been running, running, running through the airport (you know, like in the movies where they pole vault over the barriers, etc). I am panting furiously, clutching my passport in one sweaty paw, gripping my stylish little Coach holdall in the other. Only I find when I at last reach the gate, the plane has left without me. The airline staff are disinterested. And there isn't another flight scheduled for a month.

Tell me, how is it I can work a full time job, book our summer holiday, manage six different email accounts, pay the bills for two flats in two different cities, keep those flats clean, maintain and insure a car, complete E.'s tax return on time, VOTE in two different countries for fuck's sake- and yet am unable to manage to have sex with my partner on a few crucial days every month?