Yesterday, two appointments I had fell through at the last minute, so I found myself at home at 4:30 – in my pj’s, nothing good on TV, and nothing to do. I looked at the Netflix envelope that has been collecting dust on my entertainment center for well over a month, and knew what needed to be done.
Months ago, a good friend of mine recommended the PBS Nova special “Life’s Greatest Miracle”, which is an informative but accessible overview of reproduction, conception, and birth, with amazing footage inside the body and reproductive organs (wow, “amazing footage of the inside of the uterus” is a phrase I never thought I’d use). So I put it into my queue and totally forgot about it until it arrived in my mailbox several weeks ago. When I opened it and realized that this would not be my usual fare of a period drama, depressing documentary, or season 1 of The Office, I promptly shoved it back in the paper sheath and left it on the shelf. Because I am weirdly, stupidly, stubbornly superstitious, I could not bring myself to send it back unwatched – like it would be some kind of Message To The Universe that I am rejecting the idea of new life, which could not be further from the truth.
And so it sat for 6 weeks.
So yesterday, I poured myself one verrrry large glass of wine (the first of several), and finally put in the DVD. And I cried like I haven’t in months; like I’ve needed to for months. J came home in the middle of it and just held me. God bless this man, who offers me his chest to lie on while my snot pools on his shirt, and I hiccup and moan/mumble, “BUTWANNHABABEEESNOFAAAAIR!” He is so wonderful.
So despite my crying hangover today (puffy eyes, fuzzy head, lack of appetite – wait, is this a real hangover?), it was good to purge (FINALLY).