Home renovation & Sex Ed. in Walmart

Last Friday night, Meredith and I were like the punch line to a bad lesbian joke.“If lesbians rent a Uhaul on the second date, where do they go for the third date?”

“Home Depot.”

It’s not a surprise that giant home improvement warehouses like Lowe’s and Home Depot are appealing to me. And not just because I’m a big queermo. Growing up, my dad’s tool bench in our basement was one of my favorite places in the house. I wasn’t actually allowed to use the tools, but that didn’t stop me from sneaking them out of the house anyway to construct tree forts.

So when Meredith says to me, we have to go date at Home Depot on Friday night, I am not disappointed. I do not rue the day our Friday nights turned into home improvement dates instead of nights at the club. Part of the stipulation for making a baby was ditching the apartment lifestyle and settling in our own house. It just so happens the house we chose also came with extra steps in the form of some pretty heavy renovations. Luckily, we don’t scare easy.

This summer we finished our kitchen, transforming this:

Into this:

It’s not that we’re thinking about the house when we should be concentrating on finding a donor, even though it feels like that sometimes. It’s that if we’re going to make a baby we need to have a nice place to put it once we bring it home, and I don’t think saw dust inhalation is recommended for newborns. Not to mention, once I’m knocked up I plan to be fairly useless. The lesbian I’ve always thought myself to be: handy, independent, chivalrous, insert other predominantly masculine traits here. Yeah, that girl? I foresee her disappearing for 9-10 months while I pout and whine and cry about swollen breasts and puffy ankles. So I figure I need to log some pretty good hours on the house while I’m still that determined, handy gal.

On the baby front, I’m still tracking ovulation though no longer by checking my temperature every morning with my trusty basal thermometer (RIP). After meeting with the providers at Fenway Health a week ago, I’m fully trained in ovulation tracking based on cycle day count. I should be certified. I should hang a plaque on my wall or something. I tracked faithfully every morning (just about) for three full cycles so that we could get a good read on the length of my cycles, which then determines the window of opportunity for my eggs to meet up with some donor sperm. Turns out I am a standard 27-33 day cycle, meaning I test for ovulation using an ovulation prediction kit (or, “pee stick” as they will be called going forward) starting on day 10 and stopping after I’ve gotten at least one positive read. According to the experts, some women will get two positive reads for ovulation while others only see one. So there’s no need to feel inadequate if your pee stick only gives you a positive once per cycle. Last cycle I got two positives. Not bragging, just sayin’.

And speaking of pee sticks, on my way home from work the other night I was on the phone with Meredith and our conversation went something like this:

Meredith: I had the most awkward encounter at Walmart today.

This is not unusual for Meredith. She sort of thrives on uncomfortable or awkward interactions. Sometimes I think she seeks them out.

Me: Why? What happened?

Meredith: The cashier asked me what your pee sticks were.

Me: What did you tell her?

And then Meredith told me how she explained in good detail the use of an ovulation prediction kit. In line. At Walmart.

To which the cashier replied: So, they tell you if you’re pregnant?

Me: Oh god.

Meredith: I know.

Me: So did you just tell her “yes?”

Meredith: No.

Me: Oh god.

Meredith: I told her that the ovulation kit would tell you what time to have sex so that you could  get pregnant.

Me: No way.

Meredith: Yes! What if she tried to use one as a pregnancy test? I had to explain the difference.

There is doing your civic duty, and then there is my wife, holding impromptu Sex Ed. lessons while at the check-out.

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