Volcano

I'm angry. I'm angry that a giant spider tried to attack my arm when I was trying to relax on the sofa. I'm angry that my car voice recognition doesn't understand me: though to be fair, "fuck off" probably isn't in it's pre-programmed vocabulary. I'm angry that my husband called me mardy: for those that don't know what mardy means, it is a bit like miserable, but worse. I'm angry that my fertile (pregnant-first-month) pregnant for the second time Sister In Law is "excited" for our scan next week. I'm angry my husband had told people when the scan was - I purposely didn't want anyone to know so whatever happened we could have time to process it, and that was the "joint decision" we made BEFORE Day Zero!!! I'm angry my two close friends, who are both as pregnant as I would have been if transfer #2 had worked, have their baby showers in the next two weeks. I'm angry that I briefly contemplated what I would do for my baby shower. I'm angry that my husband has been out since lunch at the pub (not wanting to waste his day off staying in with me apparently) and didn't get in until 9pm when he was clearly drunk and out of money. I'm angry that he is now here and snoring and not giving a shit how I feel, not even asking if I'm ok or texting to see how I am. Im angry that we even got a positive pregnancy test - if it had been negative I would be drunk on frozen cocktails right now instead of sober, lying on the sofa in the dark, hating the world. I'm angry I don't know how to put paragraphs in my fecking blog. I'm angry I keep getting mildly optimistic for three seconds that we will get a miracle a week today. I'm angry that I can't be more optimistic. I'm just angry.