Taking a Bullet

So yeah, I took the statistical bullet last week. I'm pretty sure we all do at some point, but I figure someone else can have the honor next time, okay? That actually sounds kinda shitty. I don't wish this on any of you. I sincerely hope all of you who got your BFPs and excellent fertilization reports appreciate my sacrifice! (And in case it was unclear, that was intended to be humor. I'm a wee bit dry.) Unfortunately, this leaves me disinclined to blog for the moment. In keeping my Bullet Theme, you're getting a list today:

• All of my meds have been refilled (at no cost to me, since I met my co-insurance in May) and are boxed up and waiting in the back of my closet for the do-over IVF. It wasn't until I started IF treatments that I even knew what co-insurance meant. If you've never been introduced, it means that I've paid my yearly limit of co-pays and for the rest of the year any covered medical expenses (excluding prescriptions) will be paid 100% by my insurance. I've spent THAT much in co-pays already this year. 
• The box of meds is in my closet because my mom and my MIL are coming for their annual summer co-visit. This is good. I love them both and they have a great time together.
• The box of meds includes a just-in-case refill of my Crinone because next week, my employer sponsored health insurance is switching prescription coverage and Crinone will be bumped into the highest tier. I'm guessing my employer is gonna be saving some serious cash because my prescription costs are about to go up. Bastards.
• These are the same Bastards that have neglected to respond to the letter I sent in honor of NIAW. I console myself with the virtue of having sent it at all.
• I've fallen of the Fitness Wagon. I haven't exercised in... months. I am consistently exceeding my calorie limit for the day. Granted, my daily calorie limit is ridiculous at a mere 1,200. I AM at least maintaining. My weight has not gone back up, but the loss has plateaued. If only I could convince myself to get off my ass and back on the elliptical. It would probably also help if I could refrain from restocking the ice cream supply in my freezer.
• If I have to see one more 5-6 month pregnant woman pushing a one year old in her grocery cart, I refuse to be held responsible for my own behavior. The produce section is a perfectly acceptable location to lay down and beat the floor with my fists while screaming.
• Fortunately, I can avoid the produce section for the most part in the near future since our CSA box started back up last week. Dude, I LOVE garlic scapes. And having an excuse to see my BFF more often.
• BFF thinks I'm depressed. She's probably not far off. 

This shit sucks.