I'm sneaky and I'm not ashamed of it.

I called my new OB's office this morning and was talking to the receptionist about my first appointment. She informed me that the doc doesn't see anyone until 12 weeks, as that's when all the testing and such begins. Fine. I understand (though it sucks ass). But I explained to her that my GP thought they'd try to get me in to have a look at my cyst at the same time. The receptionist looked at the schedule, and was able to get me in 10 days earlier. It's not much, but it's good enough for me!

I totally pulled the ovarian cyst card, and I'm not ashamed of it.

Woo! I now have an appointment for the 17th at 2:45 p.m. - which is awesome, because we're planning on telling my Dad the next day at dinner. So I'll know if things are okay by then. Sweet. I was worried about that. I'm uncomfortable as it is telling my mom, brother, sister-in-law, and Nick's whole fam before we even have an appointment. But I was REALLY uncomfortable telling my Dad & Susan. They're great and all, but I definitely wouldn't be comfortable with them knowing if anything goes wrong - they're family, but not 'close' like that.

In non baby-related news, I'm officially a klutz and should stop trying to fix things. I was re-staining parts of our floor on the weekend and got a big sploosh of stain on the back of our cream couches. Awesome. I've now spent the better part of 2 days scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing trying to get the purplish brown bloops out of ultrasuede. It's not fun. I'm normally very handy, but this weekend was just not meant to be the 'fix up the condo' weekend as we had originally planned.

There are currently two plumbers in my master bathroom replacing our shower handle thingy - it's been dripping since we moved in, but now it's really bad and we need to get it fixed if we plan to sell this place and move on up to the suburbs.

I don't know why, but I'm kind of uncomfortable with plumbers my own age. They should be my dad's age, for some reason. Greying hair, beer gut, bifocals, and telling stories of all the crazy plumbing issues they've seen over the years. These guys are like 30. Whatever though. As long as it's fixed.

Well, I'm going to head to the kitchen to eat some saltines. Good times. Then when the guys are gone, I think I'll go shopping to hopfully find some shirts that will hide the spare tire I'm cultivating due to (a) eating crackers constantly to keep the m/s at bay, and (b) the full fat-full sugar stuff I'm eating now that I'm trying to cut out the artificial sweeteners.