Or, before the falling temperatures anyway.
0.6 degree drop this morning. Which is pretty unusual for this point in my luteal phase. So I'll toss my hands up in despair and give up trying to interpret because, what the hell?
And who the hell knows?
My boobs are more sore than ever. The nausea is particularly bad today. The cm is very wet (but creamy) which could mean any multitude of things (this is not uncommon in pregnancy cycles and lasts for some time into pregnancy, and it's also not uncommon shortly before my period arrives), and I feel crampy (not heavily so, just now and again).
It could honestly go either way, there is no way to predict. So, I give in.
The truth that has been hiding in plain sight beats me over the head. Either I will be pregnant (and thus have a glorious chart complete with both the mythical ovulatory and implantation dips - and really, what are the odds?) or I won't be (in which case, it would seem my period will be showing up early).
So rather than brood about it - as a pregnancy test won't reveal anything and I can't fast-forward to the point at which I take my temperature tomorrow - I'm just throwing my hands up in a gesture of futility, shaking my head, shrugging my shoulders and chuckling. Because really? Nothing else to do.
Later on, I'll post about some other things - the lovely blog awards I've received and have yet to post about because I sort of suck, the post that has been brewing about Barnabas the Brave and possibly some swirling thoughts about loss and change I've been tossing around. For now, more damned expense reports.