So after a lot of shifting, scheduling, re-scheduling, pencilling in, crossing out, and then pencilling in again...we're there. Doc and I are meeting this Thursday. Texting has ramped up in anticipation. I have sent 3 today already. What a hussy.
I looked upon my marital underwear draw this morning with barely-masked distaint. Hubby's undies were bundled up against mine in this orgy of muted colours, bobbly cotton and knock-off Calvin Klein. All my pants are that particular shade of grey. The shade that says "I once was white and clean, but my careless owners accidentally put me in on a hot wash with some jeans and now I'm ugly."
I keep my sexy undies in a little box on the top shelf of my wardrobe. Hubby has seen a few pieces, but even the French Maid ensemble I bought last year coulnd't seem to rouse him from his traditional "you get 5 minutes but only in missionary and afterwards I'm going to sleep" stance. I picked it up this morning to find a family of spiders had nested in the bib. Apt.
This evening I'm off to Ann Summers to add to my collection. My current crush...
Obviously I won't look like that. But hell, I'm not doing to badly, if I do say myself. They haven't hit ground zero yet anyway.
T Minus 3 days.