I’d say “at the risk of TMI,” but this is me we’re talking about …
I was rationing TP to the point of basically pretending I’m in an outdoor-concert portajohn, wasting three minutes air drying before finally succumbing to a limited number of squares.
Then out of the bloody blue, Mother Nature reminded me once again that my reproductive system is still ready and waiting for me to meet someone worth reproducing with.
The good thing about dating men with kids is you see if they can make a cute one before you take your chances.
In any event, rationing ends here. TP, not BC.
Also, I don’t want to be knocked up unless this is the sonogram I’d get …
