It's No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk

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After watching the Real L Word all day, I've come to the conclusion that Meg and I should have been on that show! I am confident that all of America would have died laughing had they witnessed today's events. 

Our excitement stemmed from a surprise visit of hormones (I'll admit, some were mine). Now, I'm not talking about the type of hormones that make you cry at those animal rescue commercials (you know, the ones with Sarah McLachlan?) No, I'm talking about the hormones that make you want to throw something against the wall, rip out all of your hair, and then apologize all on a whim. 

At 4dpiui, it's way too early for PMS and implantation doesn't start until at least day 6, so really the only explanation is stress. Clearly, ttc has taken a toll on our bodies and our minds. 

Meg is back to her "negative nancy" mentality. She said that she would be shocked if we actually got pregnant this time. I, naturally, started to cry. She then proceeded to ask me why I was crying. I tried to cover it up by saying "because the cookies aren't ready." I wasn't trying to hide the fact that I was crying because I'm too tough to show emotion. It was more so because I cry so often that I didn't want to give Meg a reason to get mad and/or upset! 

Anyhow, we talked it out and everything was fine. I went to sit on the couch with the dogs and Meg cleaned up the kitchen. She, being the nice wife that she is, brought me over a glass of milk and a plate with 2 fresh chocolate chip cookies. I went to grab the glass of milk out of her hand and realized (a little too late) that she wasn't paying attention. Consequently, her glass of milk fell out of her hand and all over me. It went EVERYWHERE!! It soaked my back, my shorts, and even the couch! You wouldn't believe how cold it was. I shot up (in shock), but the worst was when Meg started to yell at me. Clearly, becoming a human milkshake wasn't punishment enough. I ran upstairs, jumped in the shower, and went right back downstairs, only to see Meg standing in the foyer waiting for me. 

She apologized and we both started laughing. We went to sit back on the couch and all of the sudden Meg realized the milk had soaked through one of the pillows! Fortunately, she didn't freak out. It was only when I started to drink her milk that she got upset. Apparently I grabbed the wrong glass. I tried to correct my mistake by giving her some of my milk, but she told me that was disgusting. There was nothing I could do, but laugh.

I guess there is some truth to the saying, "It's no use crying over spilled milk." 

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