'Twas the morning after Christmas
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Except me, my umpteenth OPK of the month and some animatronic tree ornaments.
So, on the...what would this be? The twenty-third day of my cycle, maybe? Anyway, I'll call it CD 23. On CD 23, to my jaded, cynical and, yes, wondering eyes did appear not one but two very dark magenta lines. Which is lucky, since I was ready to throw in the towel (the rag?) on this interminable cycle and just wait for The Blood to return. Not that The Blood won't return anyway, but at least I will sporadically be able to delude myself for the next twelve or fourteen days and go into a nice little depressive tailspin from the hope comedown sometime in early January.