I don’t know if it’s the stress in my life or just a general deterioration of my brain from too much reality television, but my posts are scattered and not very cohesive. This is probably bad news for my readership, now up to twelve, thanks to a fun new reader. I want to offer you the good writing that I am capable of producing, but all my brain seems to churn out is snide pop culture remarks and nervous surrogate talk.
I know, right? Congratulations! You are another asshole blogger! But it’s different than that, I know some of you know. I read your blogs and you read mine and we bounce and ping off of each other in this weird cyberspace and it feels like it is more important than reading each others random lists of thoughts.
It’s funny, but my physical self is exactly like my mental self these days. I just went to the doctor today with the chief complaint of just not feeling good. Today’s shocking news: it might be an ulcer, from all the worrying. And y’all, I’m worried about worrying. I try to mitigate the worry, to only worry about clear and present danger, but this infertility business, it is if nothing else the business of worry.
Now I’m worried this post sucks. You see how this can be a viscous cycle.
The good news is that I am going to start a new blog feature, so that only every three or so posts deal with infertility. And since the Summer List was such a hit, I’ve begun working on the Fall List. If you make one too, send me a link (or leave your list in the comments of the upcoming post) and we can all cross off glorious fall things together.