So I made my second visit to the Reproductive Endocrinologist's office this past week. My monthly, well-- sometimes monthly friend came to visit me and because of that little visit, I had to go get a baseline ultrasound to see if I had anything wrong with my lady parts.
Apparently, the end is alright. Which was a relief, because I tend to think the worst in all situations and knowing my luck... I thought I'd be eat up with cysts or crud or at least a small collection of cancerous tumors. But I wasn't and so I was thrilled.
So thrilled in fact that on the way home, well actually on the way back to work, I completely forgot about where I was at and got a little lost. But in my defense, I was really relieved and I was listening to Bob and Showgram on G105, so it wasn't completely all my fault. The one time I didn't bring the GPS. But no worries, I found my way back to I-440 and got back on track in no time, after making a very panicky phone call to the Hubster.
It is a little scary to think about how easy it is to slip into auto-pilot mode when you are driving, isn't it? I was talking to one of my friends yesterday about how weird it was when I first moved into the house the Hubster and I live in now. Every so often, I would wind up back at my parents house and I'd have no idea how I got there. Or like when I have a meeting in Smithfield and go there straight from home-- sometimes I'll just take the road to work instead of staying on 701. Old habits die hard, don't they?
I have to go back to the RE again pretty soon... hopefully this next time I'll pay more attention to where I'm going.
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