reality/cheque

You know what? I'm okay.

I really am.

Maybe because I'm totally in denial and am all "Light period! I bet I'm still pregnant! Bunnies and kittens!", but also maybe because if the totally OBVIOUS happens and I'm, by some planet shifting, wtf?, NOT pregnant, I've already decided to do this all again, and I seem to do well, even in the face of disaster, when I have A Plan.

Which is: Pee on a stick sometime before Tuesday (which, for anyone who has NOT been expelling endometrium since Sunday, would be Official Pregnancy Blood Test Day). Sell my car. In that order.

I'm not digging a gigantic financial hole for myself (because hot damn I bet you were all worried about THAT)(har) because, thanks to Irresponsible Trolley Boy, I have a claim pending and WILL win a small settlement, so it would be sadly ironic to get (marginally) cashed up just in time for menopause.

"Why not dig myself a gigantic, transient, financial hole?", I asked myself, to which I answered, "Why not!".

And then I may have even danced a little jig.