You really can only see it from the back, so I’m going to go back in to have more put in on the sides.
But HOLY PINK HAIR, BATMAN!
I lurve it and can’t wait to get more in my hair. Plus, it’s really nice not having Hot Mess for the rest of the color.
This photo is, like, 10 times larger than real life. The little assholes are seriously the size of a toast crumb.
THEY ARE IN MY HOUSE, STEALING MY COOKIES.
OK, not really. But they’re in my house, and I thought I had killed them all and their mama yesterday with Fantastik spray and boiling hot (magma) water, but nooooooooooo. The motherfucking babies were back today.
ACK!
This is what happens when you adopt the neighborhood stray who survived on nothing but garbage for the second half of her first year.
We normally shut our garbage can in the guest bathroom, but after years of doing so (we’ve had her five years now), WE’RE TIRED OF IT.
So I put weights in the bottom, hoping to deter Lucky from opening this plastic Simple Human can that LOCKS. (we’re too cheap for the more expensive SH cans)
Lucky dragged that freaking can around the eat-in part of our kitchen and tore the bag to shreds trying to get it out. She must have forgotten how to unlock it, or those times were thanks to a fluke.
Oh, and Lucky knows she’s been bad. She starts shaking the second I walk in the door and will not come out of her “I’m submitting, see? Please don’t give me away!” position.
It’s really too cute to stay mad at for long.
Just until I’m done cleaning up her mess. Again.
My last entry took a positive spin, and I completely forgot to throw in these not-so-nice feelings, so, as Mario would say: Here we go!
Failure after failure after failure after failure hurts, but it also rips open a wound I keep trying to heal. Each cycle, I hope for a positive end and a way to finally put to rest that first medicated cycle, the one in which we succeeded. For six days. Each failure is a reminder of how we got close that one time and still can’t even get that close again – five months later. I could be nearing the end of my second trimester, but instead, I’m still not even pregnant – not even just a little bit.
That stings. Unbelievably so.
Also, this last cycle was our last chance for an on-time 2010 baby. Of course, babies are born premature all the time, but why would I hope for that, if only to hang onto having a 2010 baby?
So losing our 2010 baby hopes. That stings. Unbelievably so.
But a break? I need it. You see why.
