…it’s the universe’s way of telling you to quit your job and become a full-time alcoholic. I say, it’s five o’clock somewhere – and that tequila left over from your Cinco de Mayo party isn’t going to drink itself, you know.
Ok, so I’m not REALLY advocating flagrant alcoholism in retaliation to life’s ups and downs. In my defense, however, that’s probably because I’m less inclined to imbibe than I am to inhale – full-fat ice cream, perhaps.
I like to think I have a sense of humor. Or at least what’s left of what I used to have – the rest of it seems to have disappeared somewhere along several moves, dissippated between family strife, death of loved ones, losing too much sleep and overcompensating with drinking even more coffee.
I know the old adage is that when life gives you lemons, you’re supposed to make lemonade. But you know what? I’m not your waitress – get your own damn lemonade! I have a much more appropriate “Happy Bunny” card from about 10 years ago that says “When life gives you lemons, squeeze juice in your enemy’s eyes.” (There may or may not have been snorting and an evil cackle involved when I first saw it. Shut up, I can still find that funny even if it’s mean and targeted at a tween audience.)
However, my enemy isn’t a person. It’s not tangible. So even if I were prepared to engage in a full-on, no holds barred Citrus War (which I would SO totally win with all my Lilly Pulitzer paraphernalia), I wouldn’t get very far with it. You see…I’m suffering from IF-induced Tourette’s.
There. I’ve said it. Enemy – thy name is INFERTILITY!
OMG! Gasp! Shudder! EEEEEK!
That’s right. I’m one of them. Go ahead, take a long, pregnant pause (pun intended) as you contemplate your own blessings despite the fact that, just this morning, you found yourself wondering “What if, instead of having children, I’d just gotten a cat?” when you realized that there was no coffee left in the house.
No children yet?
You’ll be happy to know that, contrary to what is the apparently popular misconception of, oh let me see, EVERYONE who has not dealt with infertility, it’s not contagious. No, you can’t get it from sitting next to me. No, I promise it won’t “get on you” if you happen to look at me directly. And, no – again – I can almost guarantee that you also won’t suddenly be struck by “infertility by association” if you should happen to befriend me – honestly, I could really use a friend (or ten) right about now. Because you know what? Dealing with infertility really BITES.