So our stupid bank sent s!per.m to Zazie's attention instead of mine, even though my name is on the account and I'm the one who called and ordered it. Der.
This morning, when I went in for monitoring, I tried to straighten it out. First, they had me meet with a social worker who told me that I had to get Zazie to come in to the office to sign. I explain our situation (Brooklyn, twins, etc.), she seems to say that I can sign papers by myself, I wait another 10 minutes for the coordinator to come in. She walks in to my waiting room like no one had filled her in and asks the same questions. Except she's refusing to let me switch the vials to my name without Zazie's sig. I explain that the bank screwed up, the account's in my name, babysitting/parking fees/time off work to come in- doesn't matter. The coordinator suggests that I could have the bank send a tank, they'll send the vials back, and then they could reship it under my name. That was such an absurd suggestion.
Oh, man. I completely lost my cool with her and with the social worker, and then went out on the street and bawled like a baby on the phone to Zazie. It really isn't a huge deal, I know they were just doing their jobs, but what the hell? Whatever, the girls are going to get a trip to the city tomorrow morning before I have to go to work, I guess.
I should've known I was going to have a bad day- a fire-and-brimstone old lady preacher got on our car and was loudly preaching and walking back and forth. I tried to get away from her and she kept finding her way back near me. I actually said something like "Please lady, it's too early in the morning for that" (Seriously, 6:30 is a b*tch) as I tried to get away from her. I had to switch cars to get away from her!
Oh, and I now have 5 or 6 follicles!