I'm going to regret this.

Surely, I will. I'm tempting fate far too much by acknowledging this thought, let alone saying it loudly in public.

Nonetheless, I am trying not to give in to supersition. Because, really. I live with a black cat. I mean. . . how could saying anything actually alter anything now?

I feel really good about this cycle.

There, I've said. I have to admit, I checked over my shoulder for lightning.

There wasn't any.

(which isn't to say there won't be, she says, while biting at her nails and frowning)

I know it's too early. I know I haven't had many symptoms or much by way of unusual (save for some odd cramping that is probably in my head). I know it's beyond ridiculous to say it, but I really, really want to take a test. I actually feel like it could be positive.

That's how good I feel about this cycle. It's terribly unnatural and unnerving. The angst isn't here yet (surely it is coming). I am not agonizing over perceived symptoms or comparing old charts (which may be solely because this one is SO ludicrous). But it's also because I still feel some peace in my core. I feel like something might be happening, something good.

I hope. Gah, there it is again. Hope. I hope sincerely my peace and sanguity is not misplaced.

In other news: You know your dog is spoiled when your husband examines the old bra that you allow them to play tug of war with and suggests that you buy him a new one because this one is getting torn up. Sigh.