Wednesday morning is like Monday morning and Tuesday morning: I get up, grit my teeth at having to share my kitchen with Sly, and get out of the house. Today, though, there is no gym. Today is the D&C.
I am not going to give you guys details of the D&C because
· The information would not advance the plot and
· It is not particularly pleasant experience.
My desire to keep Sly and Doris out of it and our inability to think of a plausible lie that would get Primo out of the house with me at 7:15 a.m. means I go through the procedure alone.
Let me just say that even if you never thought you wanted children in the first place and even if you are in theory relieved that you will not, after all, lose your freedom for the next 18 years, a miscarriage is not a walk in the park.
After it’s over, I go to Walgreen’s to fill the Vicodin prescription that the D& C doctor (the one who did not laugh at my joke) gives me and buy a newspaper (as I did on Monday and yesterday) for Sly and Doris. Then I go to the library, where I read back issues of People magazine until noon, which is when I would have been getting home from the gym had I actually gone to the gym.
Nobody goes to BodyPump after getting a D&C.
Most women probably do not read People for two hours after getting a D&C, either, but most women don’t have to deal with Sly and Doris.
 Clearly, I am capable of deception, but have not completely mastered the art if Sly and Doris think I go to bed early to avoid them rather than because of any other reason. I mean, that is the reason I go to bed early, but you would think I would come up with a lie they would believe.
 I am sure that if What to Expect When You Are Expecting had been asked that question, they would have given that answer.