Ding.
Time to take the Clomid.
Except when I crack it open the pill is broken and a piece falls down my shirt. It's caught in my bra (because let's face it, nothing much is getting past those puppies). My sweaty, just-back-from-a-brisk-walk-and-running-around-the-yard, chest basket.
Do I really need this other half?
How badly do I want babies?
One boob-sweat laced Clomid piece down the hatch.
Cheers.
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2 comments:
I believe the "five-second rule" still applies here, so you should be good to go. :-)
Hahaha...true. Luckily I held on to it tightly!
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