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So I'm still here in Where-Is-My-Period hell and because I am a horrible person I am waiting for it with a glass of wine. I thought I had a sighting this morning but it turned out to be a false alarm so we are now T minus 6-8 days and counting. But who's counting right? (Oh yeah, ME).

I'm still 99% sure I am not pregnant (hence the glass of wine, though I did pour myself a small glass) but I am also sort of mentally cataloging all the things I've done in the last month or so that one is not supposed to do while gestating. And I'm talking beyond the aforementioned Class D drugs (also known as drugs with High Fetal Risk, all caps, just like that, look it up).

Imagining for a moment that this gestation business has been going on since Hawaii, there has been plenty of alcohol, sitting with smoking coworkers, allowing my husband to smoke his Cubans in the apartment and even taking a couple puffs, raw oysters, raw fish, at least one can of Coke a day, sleeping pills here and there, I'm pretty sure one tablet of Sudafed, and oh dear God, please let me get my period NOW because if I don't, this kid is doomed. Oh yeah, and I've been scooping the litter box and accidentally touched some cat poo the other day. Great.

Labels: Baby talk, Joyce likes wine, Make Joyce go something something