So NaNoBloPoMo want to know the best year of my life so far?
Seriously? I struggle to remember yesterday.
Certainly this year won’t be up there grabbing any Oscars and, as mothers, we are expected to include the years our children were born.
Although hard to see how, with legs splayed, blood (a lot of blood), screaming (that would be my doctors) and random people popping in just to poke me (and not in the innocuous Facebook way), hardly seems a credible contender either. And my suspicions are still aroused that one of those pokers was my milkman. The white coat probably swung it for him, albeit the cap should have given someone pause.