Mr Bunny came home after a few days out of town last night. He gazed thoughtfully at me.
I think you might be...pregnant, he said.
Did we engaged in any unsafe activities about...four...months ago?
Like...maybe having a nurse practitioner inseminate you with my washed sperm?
You can get PREGNANT that way? I replied in horror.
I didn't THINK so, Mr. Bunny said, but...
We plan to visit local sex ed classes to spread the word: IUI is not the effective form of birth control we once believed it to be.
In other news, today is my last day of classes. Sure I've got a hideous pile of terrible papers to grade, and after my teaching assistant slaves finish grading the final exams for my big class, I've got the unpleasant fallout to deal with (E.g., e-mails reading: why did i get a F in yr class bc i never came or did my hws but i tried really hard on the final and i don't think its fair.), but the most energy consuming part of my semester will be over in a few hours. HOT DAMN. I aim to fucking celebrate by eating a burrito and going to bed.