Last night our skittish, raised-from-feral-kitten sweet black cat bolted out the front door right as we were getting ready to go to bed. He hasn't been outside since we got him a couple of years ago. We spent half an hour calling for him and wandering around with flashlights but couldn't find him. I've called him a few times this morning but no dice. I hope he comes home on his own. We live a block away from the highway and I really really hope he doesn't get hit.
I was third in line at the lab this morning, and waited for less than five minutes to be called. Now I'm home, waiting for The Call. I've crocheted, watched YouTube videos, worked on my Halloween costume, baked a cake, wiped down the cupboards and fridge and stove and dishwasher and counters, emptied and refilled the dishwasher, taken out the recycling, wiped down the doors... and it's only 11. I'm not expecting to hear anything until after lunch, but every time I look at the clock my stomach flips. I kind of feel like I'm watching a car hurtling towards me, in the final seconds before it wipes me out, when everything goes in slow motion. I'm frozen in this spot but I keep wishing I could step out of the way, to stop the thriller and watch a comedy instead, I didn't want kids this badly, I want kids so badly, this sucks - like my life of the last seven weeks of this FET process, the last five months of being a patient at ORM, and the last five years of being infertile is flashing before my eyes.