So I really have had a bit of a week which just felt like crap frankly.
It started on a very high note when there was a potential IP interested in my potential child-carrying uterus. I got very excited and was already imaging myself in stirrups and knocked up – insert Kennith’s rather disconcerted look here.
Unfortunately the decision did not go as hoped, and I am feeling very disappointment and just a little on the devastated side.
I know we can all wax lyrically about “how it is not so bad” and really you just need to “relax and look on the bright side..” but I don’t roll with clichés and platitudes. I prefer to lie in the pit of hurt and to lick my open festering wounds, rather than to look on the sunny side of the street or imagine the cup half full.
I know that there is always the possibility that I will be matched with another IP, and they will like my uterus. And then following lots of hugs and spooning, we will all skip off into the sunset of gestational-surrogacy happy in our various roles.
The problem is that right now I feel that like the ugly unpopular third cousin who does not get asked to dance at the local “dik–sko.” While all the other chicks are kicking it old school on the dance floor, with their blue eye shadow and shoulder pads.
What must I do to get this show on the road? Clearly something that I am not doing yet.
I’m considering an A2 cardboard sign “Uterus available, only used three times” - just trying to decide on the font. It needs to show desperation, willingness, but not neediness …… difficult to select a font like that.
To add to my rather caustic mood. I have this huge printing job come through like a storm yesterday. It needs to go to print this morning or the world will end (someone’s world is always ending here in my neck of the woods…)
The one thing – the one fekn thing – I asked someone to do for me yeterday, they did not do. I spoke to them, they understood – it was actually their responsibility and I sent them an email to confirm what they must do – I may have also used bullet points to stress the sequence of events and where they came into play.
Shocker, they followed the bullet points up until the point WHERE THEY ACTUALLY had to do something.
The result was it knocked the customer pass out on the proof by several hours. Which meant that “kippie die k***” -otherwise known as me – was sitting here until late last night playing sort-out-this-job.
I had to get proofs amended and artwork changed, and remain until final sign off was done – fortunately it was a lovely publication, and the clients were very pleasant.
There I was trying to just get through this, while my heart was bleeding from IP rejection – and then Kennith phones and goes: ‘Guess who just took her first steps?”
Not only did I have a super-crapper-liscious day, but I got to miss my daughter’s first steps.
<apologise for the overuse of the word fek’n … it somehow makes me feel better when I use it …>