I watch drinking glasses in our house like a hawk. Any time I see Lo or a guest place a glass in a precarious place, I insist on moving the glass to a safe location. This is not because I particularly value our glasses. It is because we never are able to get every last piece of the glass up into the dust pan after it breaks (some always falls into hidden locations, small enough for only one very low to the ground to find). It is because a broken glass in our house subjects me to weeks of chasing around after Maggie the dachshund and taking shards of glass out of her mouth.
Why oh why does our dog like to chew glass? I shudder to think what Charles Darwin would've thought of the little beast. She doesn't swallow it ever, for the record. She just chews it, which is dangerous enough. And it's not as if she doesn't have several options of dachshund-appropriate chewable items sitting right next to her while she chews on the glass.
Despite my vigilance, one of our glasses broke the other day, so I spent this morning taking shards of glass from the dog. She had climbed onto our bed to chew them at one point, so I also spent time picking small pieces of glass out of MY SIDE of the bed. Why of why is my dachsie trying to make me bleed? Don't I bleed enough already?
Speaking of which, the Follistim injections may be giving me headaches. Or it could be caffeine withdrawal yet again. I was so depressed during my involuntary L*estrin-filled break that I didn't limit my use of my favorite drug, caffeine. Either way, I have headaches pretty much non-stop these days, Tylenol or no, cup of coffee or no. Annoying.
I go to the R.E.'s tomorrow to see how the Follistim is doing.
While at Purim services yesterday, I saw a couple of obviously pregnant women. I admit it. I was envious. Really envious. I don't begrudge any woman, whether she's had an easy time or a hard time getting pg her pregnancy really. But I want to be them so badly that I can't help feeling some envy.
Although not always. While Lo and I got our hair cut yesterday, I learned that the receptionist there is pg again. This woman has an 11-year-old child, and no other children. She has had about 1 miscarriage per year every year since her child's birth. So, she was not working but was instead at home resting and ironically, taking aspirin (her OB/GYN suggested that the miscarriages may have to do with her blood clotting around the growing embryo, the body treating it as a foreign object, and removing it, so she is taking aspirin as a blood thinner). I can't imagine having 9 miscarriages in a row and being pg again. That must be so hard and so scary. So, if you're inclined, say a little prayer for my hairdresser's very nice receptionist or hold her in the light or whatever it is you are inclined to do.