Our car wouldn’t start on Christmas Eve. If you have ever seen our car this may not come as a surprise to you. Last time we went to the IVF clinic the exhaust pipe fell off, the indicator box is currently held in place with duct tape, it only has 1 hub cap left, the AC is broken/never worked in the first place and the heater only works on one setting (The Sun). For reasons unknown it didn’t used to go into third gear but this has mysteriously resolved itself. It also doesn’t have a boot shelf anymore because we accidentally left it in a car park once (long story).
You know those people who say “don’t put off ’til tomorrow things that you can do today”? We laugh in the face of those people, so when we needed to leave on the morning of Christmas Eve we still had to finish the mince pies we had been tasked with baking as well as wrap presents and pack. So of course, in the way these things tend to go, the car wouldn’t start.
Then you guys, two Christmas miracles happened.
1. A neighbour filled with the Christmas spirit came forth from their house and jump started our car… and it worked! Christmas Miracle Number One! The bad news was that this meant Mr B had to drive around aimlessly to charge the battery.
2. This further meant I had to finish the mince pies on my own… and they looked like mince pies. Another Christmas miracle! (Side note, the Christmas cake was cut and people ate it. Actually, now I come to think of it, the only people I had visual confirmation of were my Mum and Mr B. Maybe I won’t audition for Bake Off just yet).
One of the best presents I received for Christmas was a telescopic back scratcher*. Behold:
And fully extended:
*incidentally, I get an itchy back every time I look at the back scratcher. Does it have that power through the internet? OOH, I KNOW, I will do a poll. This is my first ever poll. I’m glad it is for something so important.
My feet looking like sexy beasts in my new slippers:
My Christmas review has a sad ending this year as our car never made it back home again. Bye bye rust bucket, sorry I left mouldy bread in the door for the last 3 months.
I know well that Christmas is not a fun holiday for an infertile. It certainly never has been for me. I reached breaking point last Christmas and refused to do anything or see anyone I didn’t want to (everything, everyone) and spent the entire duration drunk and sad. Looking back to my blog post last year I described myself as in hell with my arse glued to the floor. (Reading it back there is also a medium to high chance I was drunk at the time.) So to all my infertility sisters who ended this year still stuck in the trenches with no end in sight, I am sending you some love and wine, and flipping the bird to 2014 for you. May 2015 show us all some love.