Saturday, 31 December 2011

They're Ggggrrrreeeeaaattt! the words of a cereal advertising tiger. Frosties that is.

Yes it's that time of year when money is tight and so I love receiving the annual freezer bill for the Frosties. £300. Bargain! I guess £100 each doesn't sound as bad. But the timing truly is shite. There you are full of the festive spirit (amongst other things!) and a big fat reminder of all the crap and evilness drops onto the doormat and also hammers the bank account too. Merry bloody Christmas!

The irony of these wee chaps is that the real likelihood is that we will never get to use them. If I continue being the goody-two-shoes that I have been for the last 37 years of my life, then we listen to the Drs and wait 18-24 months after finishing chemo before we consider starting a family. That's what we did last time and after 12 months the evilness decided to ruin the party. And so here we are again. We very briefly discussed whether we pay the freezer bill as it seems like more money down the drain (let's not even mention the £6000 it cost to make the Frosties in the first place). However as Darrell said - they are hope. Simple as that. They are potentially our future albeit only about 3-4 cells each but even so. It pickles the mind some what when I think that their gender is already determined. How mad is that. It generally is too huge a concept that I can't let it enter my mind too often as inevitably what sneaks in behind it is the fact that someday we may have to make the decision to let them perish. How the fuck do you decide that about your babies; your future; your hopes and dreams?

Just when you thought the evilness couldn't take anything else away. Bastard.

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