Tippy toe

Rob keeps looking at me. Wondering when the crazy is going to strike. It's like he's trying to evaluate my hormone levels by staring at me. Doing his man-math. Trying to catch the first signs of crazy before I start yelling at him for not staying on top of the recycling. Yup, I totally did that. On Sunday. 3 hours before the ridiculously dramatic end of my ridiculously long cycle. Fortunately, I saved face by huffing this,

"I don't know why you haven't taken the recycling out in the past month! ...and I also don't know what in the hell is wrong with me today!"

 We both totally knew what in the hell was wrong with me. Hormones. That's what. ;) Fortunately, Rob did not choose to inform me of this. He just played x-box and asked nicely if there was anything that he could do. I love my husband.

So anyways, 2 days in, Femara seems to have no ill effects. I have not turned into a wolfman. Hopefully this remains true.