Me vs. The Universe

Before I get started, I found a nifty new (to me) blog yesterday. I laughed heartily at the handful of posts I read & because I'm a humor whore (along with being a comment whore and a pumpkin whore), I went ahead and followed jillsmo's blog Yeah, Good Times. Lo and behold, I was the 100th follower. So today I mosey over to read her post and lil ol' me is in her blog because I was her 100th follower! Head on over & check her out, because she is funny! I likes me the funny.

We now resume our regularly scheduled blog post.

Anyone laughing at the "regularly scheduled" part? Will be punched in the junk. My hormones are all whacked. It is not wise to antagonize the hormonally imbalanced woman.

Anyway, moving on.

I have had this ongoing battle with the universe for a while now. I'm not going to complain too much, because I have my family, job, place to live, etc. There are those who do not and I don't want to antagonize the universe into stepping up its game.

However, it does seem that the universe likes to give me the finger whenever I try to make decisions to direct my life along a certain path. Not in a "fuck you, you're going to live on the street alone in misery" kind of way. But I do think that the universe likes to fuck with me. For its own amusement.

When I decided I would take control of my health and start going to the gym? The universe led me on. I found an affordable gym close by and it was just what I was looking for. Except the Goddamn thing was never open. The dude would just randomly leave during the afternoon. WTF?

Then my kid got sick. Then I got sick. Then? Just as I was feeling human again? I mysteriously injured my knee. And by mysteriously? I mean I have no clue WTF I did to it. It just hurt. A lot.

After that, I managed to find a new gym. I went once. Then the sickness/injury/work commitment thing happened again. I paid for the next month. And went once.

The universe was conspiring against my going to the gym. I fought it for several months...and now? I'm kinda tired of fighting with it to go exercise. It's not like exercise is my favorite pastime anyway.

Universe: 1, Me: 0

So last week, my baby fiending came to a head and I talked to Hub about it. Surprisingly? There was little convincing involved. Hub was on board! I went off the pill while we were doing our Thanksgiving travels. Hub was extra-frisky at the idea of knocking me up, but we had to wait for T.O.M. to go away (plus the whole kids in the bed adjacent to ours thing is kind of a turnoff...)

T.O.M. abated. We returned home from the trip from hades. And?

We all got colds. The neat, everything ends up in your throat/chest after making your head all slimy for a couple days kind of cold.

It is not slime! It is mucus.

Sexy image, right?

Universe: 2, Me: 0

So, T.O.M. has abated, cold is kinda gone (or at least less facially mucusy), it's GO time, right? I'm off the pill...Hub is frisky & ready to impregnate (or at least try a lot to impregnate....and....and....

T.O.M. returns. Painfully. And very unexpectedly. On my way to work.

Fuck.

Or not, as the case may be.

Universe: 3, Me: 0

I've not had any in a couple of weeks now. I am getting crabby. And waiting to be impregnated, dammit.

I can't properly fantasize about buying baby stuff or maternity clothes when I'm not even pregnant yet. Plus? I'm almost 33 and apparently according to some fertility chart I saw somewhere, there's only a 60 something percent I'll get pregnant this year, as opposed to the high-80 something percent chance back in the day when I got pregnant with Boo.

So there's a little anxiety there.

Which could be easily alleviated with a little bit of good sex.

Ahem.

Universe? Could you throw me a bone here? So to speak....