Let's go Red Sox, let's go!

For the second night in a row, I'm up way past my bedtime watching baseball. Fuck you, Fox and your late starts. I really should go to bed. It's just baseball, right? Right...so I think I'll just watch the end of this inning and then go to bed. God, the Sox crack me up, especially their bullpen band.

I've severely neglected this place. Not that it matters, because I think I'm my only reader at this point. I've been cheating on you, Diaryland, but I might come back now and then.

So we're having guests this weekend and the house is still not quite guest-ready. I'm trying to let go. Martha Stewart would scoff at my guest room, but then I didn't spend any time in the big house, so I win on principal.

In other news, I'm trying to get pregnant. Have been for a little while with no success yet. I'm scared either way. What if we have a kid- how the hell can we afford it? What if something's wrong with me or Brian and we can't have a kid? Based on my medical history, my doctor wants to put me on Clomid if I'm not pregnant by January. That gives me time to prepare Brian for the hormonal apocalypse that will descend upon our merry barren household if Clomid enters the picture.

Okay, must go stress out for the rest of the game. Go Sockies!

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