Darn, those hormones!

Well, transfer went GREAT. We had two 8-celled embies that we transferred. I went back to work on Friday (after two days of bedrest), and by the end of the day, I was cramping so badly, I had to get home and lie down. The weekend, however, was awesome! I took a 45 minute nap in the late AM, then went out for an early dinner, then took an hour nap in the late PM, then got my lovely shot of PIO, then off to bed! Sunday, we went to church, went to lunch, took a two hour nap, did much of nothing. NIIIIIIICE. Gotta love a nappy weekend. As for how I'm feeling ... well, tired, weepy, and just a tad nauseas. All symptoms of either the PIO injections, or quite possibly, I'm pregnant. Though I won't know for a little while yet.

Then... there's always today's joyful event of coming to work and having to face a demanding, micro-managing, ranting and raving boss. Oh, it's quite lovely. He gets himself so wound up and red-faced, that it's hard to get out of him what he's really looking for. The only thing you hear him saying is... "this is wrong, wrong, WRONG. This is not what I want. This isn't close to what I'm looking for. How did you get this number? This isn't what you gave me last month..." On, and on, and ON!

So, in my head... I have so many nice little things that I want to say to him that go something like this...

"Ummm ... okay ... so what the heckis it that you want, Mr. Smartman? I did what you asked, and YEAH, it's exactly what I gave you last month ... remember how happy you were with it then? Oh, yeah... I forgot to put my mind-reading hat on today. Look, I'll tell you what... you just march your little 5'5" hitler-ish self on out of here, and I'll forget you ever stopped by. And while you're marching, why don't you try lifting your own dead-weight fingers and pulling the report you REALLY want out of that thing that sits on your desk... your computer ... you know ... it's that thing you have your secretary dust regularly. Is that a deal?" (as I slowly stand my 5'9" frame up from my chair and lean menacingly over my desk with a 'go ahead and make my day' look on my face).

But, noooooooooo ... instead, I find myself taking SEVERAL deep breaths and trying to control the tears that are threatening to over flow. Darn, those hormones! You'd think I'd be able to control the waterworks. How professional, not to mention attractive!