This one time at the fertility clinic... they forgot to tell me that there might be some umm... leakage after my saline sonogram. That would have been very helpful information before I hurriedly put my clothes back on and jumped in the car to get to work.
The exam revealed I had polyps (lucky 13 if you're wondering). This meant yet another procedure before we could start treatment. I think my doctor must have been too busy consoling this blubbering mess of hormones to inform me that I should take my time putting myself back together.
So I get in the car and about halfway there I start to feel a little damp. Now its December. I'm wearing wool herringbone pants. The best way to avoid being spotted and catching pneumonia is to pull into a parking garage downtown. Since I'm late for work, the lot is full and I need to wait for the parking attendant to take my car. Wouldn't you know it? There is a girl there from college waiting to pick up her car. My face is pink and puffy and I have freaking wet my pants. This is no time to have a conversation with a long lost sorority sister.
My guardian angel decided to wake up from her year-long nap and somehow I found myself back at my desk. Now if only she would have managed to remind me to pack a lunch. This is no time to stand in line for a sandwich.
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