First, the update I know you’re all dying to hear: I’m still not pregnant. But I have started taking my temperature every morning to give this whole ovulation-charting thing a test run, so that’s bound to be exciting. Nothing like a read-out on a thermometer to get one in the mood for sweet lovin’ with one’s spouse. Haaaa.
We had more septic tank problems over the weekend, which I won’t write about it in detail because I’m sure y’all are sick to death of hearing about it. The happy part is that it didn’t cost us anything because Dave fixed it himself. The infuriating part: apparently the last time the repair people were here, when we dropped a couple of grand on getting a whole new pump? The technician forgot to turn the damn system back on when he was finished. Luckily we discovered it before it flooded into the house again. And now we know how long we can go with a completely shut-down system before all the tanks are full (about 6 weeks). Which I suppose is useful information to have. But we were both pretty enraged that the dude didn’t even think to flick the power switch to “on” before he left. I’m going to get Dave to call and file a complaint – usually I’m better at that (we have a pretty nice “good cop/bad cop” routine; he’s the polite Brit, I’m the rude American), but I think that in male-dominated industries like that one, they just might take it more seriously if it comes from a man. Plus, Dave can be calmly angry whereas I’d probably just lose my mind and start screaming about what a bleeping bleep-for-brains bleep-head their technicians are. Only without the self-censorship.
Ok, enough of the rage. Total change of topic: on Saturday night, Dave and I watched “Rosemary’s Baby”, which neither of us had seen before. Very odd movie. Some of it was totally campy – I giggled at things that I’m pretty sure were supposed to be serious. I didn’t think it was all that scary, although the idea of messing with a pregnant woman really bothered me. (Hmm, wonder why I’m sensitive to that?) But mostly I was annoyed with Mia Farrow’s character for being so damn passive. What can I say, my feminist side got all riled up over a movie that was made in 1968. I’m silly that way.
I just realized that I claimed my feminism in a paragraph immediately following one in which I said that I thought people listened to my husband more than they listened to me. Hmmm… hypocrisy, anyone?
In fellow blogger news, The Boy Davis is vacationing at our humble home this week, which is fun since he and Dave are old friends and haven’t seen each other for a few years. Don’t ask me why anyone would voluntarily opt for a vacation in Duvall, but hey, maybe he really likes farm animals and depressingly bleak weather? Those are things we seem to have in abundance. (I know the weather situation is temporary, but god! Enough with the rain already!)
Anyway, I’m trying to hide out and leave them to have lots of male-bonding time. (See the anti-feminism flaring up again? Where does this come from?) This might even turn out to be the week that I finally catch up on all the shows I’ve DVR’ed over the last few months. Season 2 of “Lost,” here I come!