Medicals and underpants
Apparently the sis in Holland thinks I don’t update this enough 
Well the last few weeks I have had a valid excuse. Aka a life. Actually no, I haven’t as it was all work. But I shall try and update and make it more interesting then I got up, had breakfast and went to work. Because whilst lets face it that’s my usual day, the things that go on in my head are a tad different. Not that I imagine for a second you’d want me to share that. But anyway. We headed today finally for our medical. After 2 meetings with the counseller and one dummy run with the doc I felt much more relaxed about trouser dropping and instruments being put where nature has not intended them to go. I have moved past this , well I had to. I’ve never yet heard of a woman getting pregnant by drinking green tea alone or swimming in the local swimming pool. Not unless you’ve been interviewed by the National Inquirer then all bets are off. Medical went fine, Kilkenny had sent on what they call ‘My Summary of Care’. I call it my scarlet letter. There in print was all the things my poor body had gone through and using big fancy medical terms didn’t make me feel any better about it. Once the medical was done and dusted, we were told to start testing for ovulation, give them a call when we’re ovulating and they will take it from there. All sounds very straight forward doesn’t it? Well I guess we shall see.
Thankfully I’ve had 2 days off work. I asked the boss for them last week when I was climbing walls due to workload. I was literally and whilst he’s a patient man he can’t handle one of his developers knotting sheets to get out of the office. So I had monday and today off. Of course, what did I do on Friday instead of heading out with the workmates for an after work drink. And one of the work mates was celebrating a bday so I really should have attended. I instead painted the kids room. Don’t ask. I was quite possibly hit by the worst dose of nesting ever. I mean, who paints a room? On a Friday evening when they’ve got a long weekend to look forward to? A nutter is who. Speaking of which, I love this website. squirrelunderpants It just makes me laugh.
Mammy was slightly concerned when she arose on Saturday to the noise of the hoover and the washing machine. Supposedly every time she looked around the pictures were all moved around. At one
stage she had to stop me bundling her into the washing machine. Well if she insists on sitting near the clothes pile and doesn’t look like wool or white clothing, what am I supposed to do?
Yesterday was spent on the couch with Will, Grace, Jack and Karen. I love that tv series and the sister in Holland bought me the second season for my birthday. I got through the rest of it whilst waiting patiently for the computer to stop acting like a complete diva by shutting itself down every few mins. I took it upon myself in my spare time to upgrade the forum software the spud uses. Of course in the middle of converting the database, this can take hours, the pc falls over and refuses to get up. It was acting like someone you see in Temple Bar of a Saturday night after one too many. So I thought the best bet would be to treat it like the teenger it was behaving and ignore it. Which worked. It behaved for the rest of the evening and once I returned from training I was ready to commence work on coding.
Training was great. Apart from the bruises I picked up. I don’t mind getting bruises when they are well landed kicks etc. But as my partner was a newbie, the toes were catching my arms every few kicks. I niavely thought , as she appraoched me at the start of the class when we are told to partner off, that she was a newbie, hence easy enough. Girls who are beginners don’t tend to hit hard. This one packed a wallop. If that wasn’t bad enough the instructor then proceeded to tell the people who were hitting , ie not me, to lash into. It was a focus mitt so your partner couldn’t feel a thing. Did he not see the physio running into the gym to patch my shoulders back up? Sheesh. Apart from that though it was good, my kicks are improving, if I could only perfect the follow through roundhouse kick without looking like a drunk ballet dancer I’d be sorted 
Now that I look at the date of my last post, I reckon the sister might be right. Okay, I shall try to post more often, prepare to die from boredom or shocking pictures of naked squirrels. Mammy2 refuses to let me bulk buy, she thinks there won’t be much of a demand for them. I told her to try thinking outside the box and that meerkats were about the same size and if they got wind of this fantastic new idea, well they’d be on it. She shook her head and gave me The Look. I’ll explain The Look another time.
