To P (OAS) or Not to P (OAS), that is the question....

Or, how many lame literary puns can I come up with?

Well, there comes a time in every cycle, for me around 10 DPO, when the HPT battle of the mind begins. Do I or don't I? Is it better to know early so I can go open that bottle of Rose without guilt, or to hold out a bit longer? And what about false negatives? Why do that to myself? What if there's a late implantation? Yada Yada Yada.

This time I held out till 12 DPO, and even then only caved because my FC rang to move my BT from 31/12 to 2/1. I just had to know! And as has happened for about 24 other cycles now, only that red, raw, first control line emerged, to taunt me with my barrenness. So I did what I had to do.

This involved curling up into the foetal position on the couch with my recent shipment from Amazon.co.uk, the Charles II mini-series. Four hours of period drama and comfort eating maintained my sanity for another day.

Although the irony of this particular mini-series didn't escape me. Poor old Catherine of Braganza, miscarrying constantly and robbing England of an heir, while old Charlie was porking and impregnating everything that moved. I pictured myself as old Catherine (not only because of who was playing Charles....Hottie Alert!), roaming around Whitehall, surrounded by all the royal bastards. Sounds like just about every function I attend these days, barren old Mez and the fertility brigade, with their precocious Coopers and Spencers and Tylers (the surname-firstname kids, as I like to call them) trying to attract my attention. When did kids get so confident?

But I digress. Peeing on a stick is really only fun for the fertile. It hands them their little prize after their huge 2 week wait. The rest of us live to Pee another day.