Ovulation-induced grump syndrome?

Two things have irritated me today.

The first was the undercooked excuse for a poached egg hubby served me this morning. Before you recoil in horror at me complaining about being made breakfast, let me just provide some context. Yesterday, in the supermarket, hubby announced he wanted a cooked breakfast today, and proceeded to canter about gathering up the wherewithal to make it.

I didn't pay much attention, as I was in my usual supermarket survival mode of keep-head-down-and-thus-keep-lid-on-irritation-with-disproportionately-high-volume-of-pregnant-women-who-shop-here-I-mean-wtf-is-there-something-in-the-water. But I do remember being glad at the prospect of waking up to strong coffee, hot food and Sunday papers.

However, hubby got up this morning having reassessed his priorities and decided that watching Dr Who in his pants was infinitely preferable to slaving over a hot stove. He was also in a black mood, probably because he knew the doomy sex bell was tolling and he'd have to perform today.

So he did the classic male thing of doing a chore when they don't want to do said chore, and thus doing it so badly that they'll never be asked to do it again. The egg I was given was not so much "poached" as "very recently laid". It was even less cooked than one of MY knackered eggs.

So that was the first thing. The second thing happened after hubby and I had finally done the deed - an experience which made me feel like a teenybop Playboy bunny who has married a geriatric billionaire, I might add, because of him hamming up the back pain.

Nevertheless, we got through it. And then, when I was lying there afterwards, silently willing his swimmers up through the gleaming tunnel of my newly sandblasted tubes, I was seized with the sort of sneezing fit that basically renders all your good work useless. Bah.

Still, on the offchance that I might have retained a couple of dogged specimens, I do think I might actually have ovulated. There are signs: sore boobs, the delightful egg-white (another reason for being repulsed by my oozing breakfast), and a weird stabbing pain low on the right-hand side. Sadly the right-hand ovary is the incompetent one but perhaps it has been shocked into action after watching the sea of dye whoosh past last week.

Before I go, I must share a link to a brilliant blog I've just found. For anyone currently going through first-time fertility treatment, it's massively inspiring because this woman has one IVF baby and is pregnant with her second.

It's also hugely funny - I read through her archive back to 2006, and her post about her HSG made me laugh out loud. I'm a tough crowd, so that's no mean feat, especially these days - in fact, hubby was so disturbed by the unfamiliar sound that he came trotting up the stairs with tissues and an expression of trepidation, assuming that, as usual, I was crying!

The ramblings of an insomniac

The weirdest things are making me think of the HSG (though still no hospital letter). At the gym I was on the machine that works your inner thighs by you spreading 'em wide and then using the weight to bring them together. To get started you have to sort of straddle it and open your legs as wide as you can - a position at which I am becoming increasingly adept.

Anyway, as I assumed the pose, I was immediately transported to a dramatic visualisation of the HSG. The soundtrack to this increasingly vivid scene is eels' 'Novocaine for the Soul' - "you'd better give me something to fill my hole" being my reimagined version of the lyrics, in response to the lack of anaesthetic on offer.

So then last night I couldn't sleep, and I started thinking about other reimagined song lyrics and titles. Once I started, I couldn't stop. It reminded me of that scene in Roxanne where Steve Martin reels off 20 different jokes about his nose to shut up a big, fat idiot in a bar who insulted him. (Read them here - very funny.)

So. While I can't pretend to be as funny as Steve Martin, and while some of them are just plain tragic, here we go with my list. Any additions would be most welcome!

1. Obvious: "Bye bye baby, baby goodbye" - Bay City Rollers
2. Literal: "I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding" - Leona Lewis
3. Emo: "We'll carry on, we'll carry on, though we're broken and defeated" - 'Welcome to the Black Parade', My Chemical Romance
5. Determined: "Success is my only motherfucking option - failure's not" - 'Lose Yourself', Eminem
6. Crude: "And I don't wanna make love to you" - Etta James
7. Self-pitying: "Why does it always rain on me?" - Travis
8. Instructive: "Knock me up before you go-go" - Wham!
9. Gloomy: "I told you I was trouble, you know that I'm no good" - Amy Winehouse
10. Helpful: "You raise me up so I can reach the stirrups" - Westlife
11. Desolate: "I walk this empty street, on the boulevard of broken wombs" - Green Day
12. Demented: "2, 4, 6, 8, ovulate" - Tom Robinson Band
13. Nihilistic: "I want to be someone else or I'll explode" - 'Talk Show Host', Radiohead
14. Cryptic: "But I feel something is wrong, lately I feel this cake just isn't done" - 'Northern Lad', Tori Amos
15. Upbeat: "So no-one told you life was gonna be this way. Your womb's a joke, your ovary's broke, your sex life's DOA!" - 'I'll Be There For You', The Rembrandts
16. Wistful: "Wouldn't it be nice if I were pregnant, then we wouldn't have to have it off" - The Beach Boys
17. Frustrated: "Give me a minute, a girl's got a limit, I can't get knocked up if my egg's not in it" - Oasis (from 'The Importance of Being Fertile', no less!)
18. Dark: "Twisting and turning, the speculum's burning, it's breaking the girl" - Red Hot Chili Peppers
19. Pleading: "The drugs you gave me, nothing else can save me, IVF" - 'SOS', ABBA
20. Angry: "Oh, look at all the fucking babies" - 'Eleanor Rigby', The Beatles

Come on, fellow bloggers - together we can get to 100! And there's a Creme Egg in it - I mean it, I shall post one - for any that make me laugh out loud.