AF arrived a few days ago! So it’s a new month and time for a new TTC method. This cycle I’ll be taking my temperature daily, recording my temperature on a chart and checking my cervical mucous. I’ve discovered that by taking your temperature each day you’ll begin to see a pattern forming on your chart. Your body temperature drops before increasing around ovulation time. Also, your cervical mucous is a great indictor of your fertile time.
My boss is sending me to New Zealand. A local tourism board in Nelson and the Marlborough region are going to escort me (and two other tourism industry colleagues) around for a week. Kind show off their fabulous tourism regions so that our companies send them most tourist! Food, wine and fresh NZ air sounds great to me. I leave in a week.
I’m not talking to DH. Actually, I’m thinking of filing for a divorce. DH is a DH(!). He had his end of cricket season presentation last night and I knew he’d have a few drinks. But I wasn’t expecting a near raving lunatic when I picked him up at 10.30pm. Two of his team members had to help him to the car. How can one man get so drunk in four hours? I finally get DH home and he’s acting strange. His eyes are rolling in the back of his head, he’s talking gibberish and he can’t sit still. Oh no!! I’ve seen this look before. No! No! No! Someone has given him drugs!! I stay up with DH most of the night knowing that I should be in bed resting because my flight to NZ is at 11am. Finally at about 4.30am, he falls into a fitful sleep and I struggle to count sleep. But my rage won’t let my head rest. There are so many thoughts running through my mind. Did DH willingly take drugs? Or did someone slip him something? Why would DH do this too me knowing I’m about to leave for a week? How am I going to get to the airport in the morning now? Silence and divorce sound like a nice option at the moment.
The next morning I shower, change, call a cab, grab my bags and leave the apartment without saying goodbye to DH. New Zealand is the perfect escape for the next seven days. I can’t wait to sample the fine Sauvignon blanc and forget Sydney.
I awake up in a cosy B&B in Nelson. It’s below 10 degrees outside and I’m snug as a bug in bed. The next few days pass in a blur. Mostly hotel inspections, food, wine, art exhibit, wine, food and more wine. Then we jump in a helicopter and head up to the Marlborough Sound for an overnight stay, some bushwalking and a cruise back to the mainland. Having fabulous time and cannot believe I’m getting paid to experience this. I’ve totally forgotten about Sydney… Oh and DH!
It’s Friday morning and I’m exhausted and slightly hung-over. Drank one too many wines in Blenheim yesterday. But must get up and face reality as it’s time to head back to Sydney… and DH. As I arrive in Sydney, I switch my phone on and have a message from DH saying he’ll collect me outside Customs. I grab my bags, pass through Customs and head outside to meet DH. However there is no DH. I get another message saying he’s stuck in traffic. Argh!! I’m tired, grumpy and hungry. Wish I could just jump in a taxi and head home. Why o Why did DH have to pick me up? Probably trying to score browning points so I don’t divorce him.
Forty five minutes later and DH appears. The mood in the car is tense. Almost palpable.
I walk though the front door and smell smoke! What the? DH runs past me to the kitchen and rips open the oven door. Out comes a charcoal leg of lamb and deflated vegetables. DH begins to cry and tells me he was trying to fix a lovely dinner for me to come home too. I yell at him for leaving the apartment, leaving the oven on and leaving his common sense at the pub last Sunday!
Fast forward to the end of May and we’re about to move into our very own apartment. An apartment that we now own. Well, the bank owns. But in 10,950 days from now, it’ll be ours.
I can’t wait to turn the spare room into a nursery for our baby.
It’s moving day! I jump out bed and pee on a stick (POAS). It’s testing day. Testing of my patience and testing to see if I’m up the duff. Damn, it’s negative. No time to cry. Must let the removalists in the front door.
The move goes well and everything is moved into place by midday with the help of friends and family. Having a overwhelming sense of achievement. We did it! We are now broke and skint for many years to come!
A few days later, we head back to the rental apartment to clean it out. So many happy moments were made in this apartment. Memories to treasure for years to come. I catch a sob in my throat and begin to scrub the toilet bowl harder. Why is it that you always need to go the toilet after you clean it? I take the rubber gloves off and sit on the toilet. There She is starring at me. The wicked witch has paid me another unwelcome visit. This time I cry for it’s ironic that I’m closing a door to a past life and opening the door to another cycle.