I’m starting to feel somewhat normal again. Meaning, my sinuses are still whacked out, but I’m not feeling quite so verge-of-death and I’m sleeping through the night, so things have improved about a thousand percent. Oh, and speaking of sleeping? That cough syrup with codeine gives me the weirdest dreams. I only occasionally remember my dreams, but the last few nights have all been very vivid, and I’ve been waking up confused, thinking that whatever was happening in the dream is still happening in real life. I’m honestly not a huge fan of being all disoriented first thing in the morning, but if this is what it takes to get a good night’s sleep, so be it.

Switching abruptly to the topic of trying-to-get-pregnant: I recently ordered this book. (Thanks, Sarcomical!) For whatever reason, our stupid postman was too lazy to bring the box to our doorstep and leave it there (hate him), so instead I got one of those notices in our mailbox that said I had to go to the post office to pick it up. Our post office sucks, every time I’ve had to go there to pick up a package, they’ve never been able to find it. We live in a very small town, so the post office is also small, and you’d think that it would be difficult to lose someone’s mail there. Ha! Last year, one of my friends sent us a wedding present a couple of days before the wedding itself, and it was a few days after the wedding when I was able to go pick it up. By the time I got there, they had actually mailed the package back. So yeah. Hate.

On this particular occasion, the line was out the door of the post office (whose idea is it to have one employee working at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon?), but when I finally got to the front of the line, it only took them a couple of minutes to find my package. Hooray. On my way out, carrying my new book about “taking charge of my fertility” under my arm, I passed a pregnant woman. I hope it was a good omen, because it honestly just kind of pissed me off at the time. But I think I already had a chip on my shoulder about having to go to the stupid post office in the first place.

But this book? Is pretty darn cool. (Although I do need to stop reading it before bed, because again, the dreams, they are a-freaky.) There are all kinds of things about my body that I never knew, and all kinds of very scary diagrams. The thing is, I’m totally fascinated by it, but I’m not allowed to talk about most of it with Dave. Anytime the subject of my cervix comes up, he tends to plug his ears and yell “la-la-la-la-I-can’t-hear-you-la-la-la!!” And I suppose that’s ok, he doesn’t really need to know the graphic details of how things work “down there”. But it’s made me glad that Kris is around, because at least I have someone with whom I can be all, “hey, did you know such-and-such, etc.?” She seems totally unphased by pretty much anything I tell her, so that’s cool.

Other than that, our weekend wasn’t too terribly eventful. We went to our local sports bar for dinner on Saturday night, and saw the worst band in the history of the world. (And guess what? They have a website! Thanks, Google!) Seriously, they were awful. Classic rock cover band, led by a guy with a horrible voice, who didn’t even seem to know most of the lyrics of the songs they were covering. Case in point: during “Drive” by the Cars, there’s a line that goes: “who’s going to plug their ears when you scream?” This dude said, “who’s going to hold your hands when you scream?” Um, what? I know it shouldn’t matter – their cover would’ve sucked regardless if he knew the words or not, just because they were that bad. But I’m sort of OCD about song lyrics, and it just grated on my nerves when he got them wrong.

Last night, we watched “The Squid and the Whale”. Wow. I don’t know that I have ever disliked Jeff Daniels that much, I just wanted to hit him. That movie is intense, I kept sort of curling into a ball and willing them to just please STOP already. I suppose it was well done and all that, but man, it was depressing. Not sure if I’d recommend it or not.

And now, it’s Monday morning. Back to the grind and all that. Yadda yadda. Whee.