We went out for an early lunch; I ate only half of my meal but still felt so stuffed I might spontaneously explode as we walked out of the Ritz carrying my leftovers in a nice little white bag.  I felt incredibly drowsy on the way home and, even though I have a policy against naps because they jinx me and then I can’t fall asleep at night, I mumbled to Joey as walked up the stairs to our apartment that I was probably going to fall asleep and there wasn’t much that could be done about it.

I found my book, changed into lounge pants and climbed back into bed…all before 12:45.

“So…when do you want me to come make sure you’re not asleep?” Joey asked me.

“If you haven’t seen me by 3:00, come get me.”

I had him leave the door open so I wouldn’t fall asleep.  But that only worked for ten minutes, because I only read one chapter in my book before I was out cold and probably snoring like a lumberjack.

Joey woke me up at 3:00.  Or at least he tried, but I kind of refused to get out of bed and he made the mistake of leaving me in the room by myself and I fell back asleep nearly immediately.  He noticed it was eerily quiet again in our house about 3:15 (around here, if it’s quiet it either means I’m up to something, or I’m up to something so Joey has learned to investigate quickly) and came back into the room and sat on me.

“Get up,” he said, and bounced a bounce or two to jog me awake.

“I refuse,” I mumbled.

But he was all TOO BAD, you’ll already never sleep tonight, and I discovered that there was no way to argue with that dizzying logic.  I was already up a creek from sleeping for 2 1/2 hours.  (If there are rambling posts on this blog at 2 a.m., you will know why.)

I finally dragged myself out to our Extremely Uncomfortable Futon that is going in the Dumpster whenever we move out of this apartment because it is in bad shape and doesn’t deserve to be moved anywhere.  Sometime in the last year one of the boards has popped up and pokes you uncomfortably in the bum if you sit in the wrong place.  Trust me, that can be a real surprise if you throw yourself down nice and hard.  Joey was going through old pictures trying to pick out some good ones, and in the process was going back a year or two.  I tried to wake up and watched him pick pictures for about twenty minutes, vetoing some of the really weird ones he picked.

Here’s what I learned:

Two rounds of IVF in the space of six months is NOT A FRIENDLY THING TO THE GIRLISH FIGURE.  Holy Holsteins, Internet.  I mean, they say the camera add ten pounds, but in this case I think it was actually the Follistim.

Dear Follistim, Ganirelix and Menopur…thank you for making me not only afraid of needles and shots, but also larger than I was before you found me.  How nice of you to leave me a tangible memory of your impact on my life.  Love, Jenna

And, with that encouraging piece of information, I’m going to go watch the Preakness after I cut up a peach and some raspberries because that’s what sounds good to me right now.  That, and Joey said I could get the raspberries ONLY if I ate them all this time.

Last time I didn’t eat them all.

I don’t want to lose my raspberry privileges, they are hanging on by a thread.