As always, my body's timing has that classic irony. This is also the worst post-surgery one to date, and naturally I had not gotten around to bringing in the large 'work' bottle of painkillers to the new work place. Luckily emergency supplies were easy to obtain, and I've actually been getting a surprising amount of stuff done for a CD1.
Of course in order to obtain that perfect timing it was exactly one day late, meaning I started to get those "wouldn't it be funny if..." thoughts. Sigh. I should totally know better by now. I am not going to get pregnant the old fashioned way. Rationally I know this, but still, every time I am even a second overdue I get those darn thoughts. Someone should smack me. Any volunteers?
Of course it would also be poetic if I was going to start suppressing on a cycle that started on a Friday the 13th, but not poetic enough to tempt me to deviate from the plan of giving myself an extra month to recuperate.