I Know I’m Double-Posting And I Hate Double-Posting Almost As Much As I Hate Double-Denim. But I Am On Hormones So If You Have A Problem With This I Will Personally Come Over And Wee On Your Front Door Mat.

I spent the day meowing showtunes.

It sounds odd but I swear to God, replacing song lyrics with meowing is *the* most therapeutic thing you can ever do. Go on. Try it. My recommendations for beginners are Jolene, bohemian Rhapsody and the theme music to Jaws. The more advanced can try showtunes like Oh What A Beautiful Morning, I Could Have Danced All Night, Phantom Of The Opera, and the Time Warp. The higher pitched, the better.

Strangely the dog totally ignores my supersonic meowing, and the cat looks at me like ‘you just called my mother a whore. I will bite your face off while you sleep.’

So, while jacked up on 450 units of Gonal-F per day, for 14 days, which is approximately enough hormones to kill an average sized elephant, I resorted to the highest of high-pitched meowing. It’s a better option than homicide.

So last night lying in bed with James:

Me: Meow-meow, meow-meow, meow-meow, meow-MEOW-OW-OW…
James: Stop meowing Jolene.
Me: If I meow the high-pitched parts of Bohemian Rhapsody, will you back me up with the low-pitched parts? Like the Galileo Galileo bit?
James: No.
Me: *meows Scaramouche-Scaramouche will you do the Fandango with such gusto that I let out a fart*
James: You are an embarrassment.
Me: If I get out of bed and get you a caramel swirl ice cream, will you meow?
*silence*
Me: A high-pitched meow? Just one?
*silence*
James: How high-pitched?
Me: High as you can go.
*silence*
James: Meow

And so I hauled my arse out of bed when it was so cold that the tears nearly froze on my cheeks, and I had to stop, doubled over, stop laughing long enough to go a few more steps. Worth it. So very, very worth it.