So apparently four in the morning is the Hour of Blogging. I’ll have to put that in my day planner:
- Midnight — witching hour
- 2:00 a.m. — last call
- 4:00 a.m. — blogging
What do you ladies do when you can’t sleep? Me, I think about all the things that used to be fun.
Remember when sex was fun? I do. Kind of.
It didn’t used to be tied up with guilt and counting of days and shame and stress and failure. Sex didn’t used to be the kind of thing I could fail at. But here we are coming up on three years of failure and it’s hard to remember back when it was something we did just because we felt like it.
My long-suffering husband wishes I was not an emotional disaster needing to be handled with kid gloves, so there’s that extra added layer of failure: not only am I failing to conceive, I’m also ruining my marriage by freezing out the only person who loves me.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. It’s so late that it’s early, and I can’t sleep, and I’m just kind of a mess.
And this, ladies, is why I don’t blog much. Because my posts look like this. Is this even in fucking English?