All the hoping in the world didn't make if happen for us this month. I went to the hospital today for a pregnancy test, hoping, of course, that the nurse would come bounding around the corner, her arms bursting with a dozen red roses, arm outstretched with a positive test in her hand for me. I should've known better. What kind of soppy sap goes in for a test on Valentine's Day anyway? What a dope.
Guess I'll have that glass of red wine tonight after all, and as much chocolate as I can fit, after some lovely raw sushi, and a side of blue cheese and then chase it all with a hot cup of caffeine-filled java to wash it down.
Blasted.
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