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before that usual period came to end a casual conversation, mrs ash made a note she was delayed. not for work, nor any particular activity that was overdue. rather, the regular bloodshed supposed to come in monthly cycles was parading the indian connection.


uh oh.



not that i wasnt up to laying the red carpet for another baby ash. the fact remains - and misis is well aware of this arduous intention, to have four little abo's crawling and thriving our branch of the family tree. but the timing was coming too soon, and too early for this ash's comfort.


the speculation was grounded on two likely gasms within that preceeding window period of seed germination. either that night she took upon herself to, without warning, lay on top of me without reason (and who am i to restrict her version of the scotch mist). or that other morning baby ash number one was out on an early pass and we had the matrimonial bed to ourselves.


and i am not an ardent fan of wearing the latex glove. pride, as you can discern, is one of my personal virtues. if procreation was not the act's intention, i have that arrogant yet careless security blanket of just pulling out the gun away from this tajma hole before that 21-gun salute fires away. how many of us are guilty of this excuse? perhaps all, if not all unplanned pregnancies.



so that post-conversation monologue proceeded with a semi-anxious, semi-pleased thought stuck on my mind. would it be number two? would it be a mr this time? would the nine months of bittersweet agony called husband to the pregnant wife become part dieux?


to end the speculation, an easy test should follow. which would only take a few drops of mrs ash's pee. this strip to show one band or two to say if there's a cause or just a flu.

and the next couple's casual conversation...