Dying. Of. Anticipation. Expecting the worst. Bracing for a Very Bad Day. I've done alright at staying positive over the past month, even when things haven't gone as perfectly as planned, but this is hard. I keep thinking, it might end tomorrow. I could find out for myself. There is a single HPT left in my bathroom cabinet, but I am leaving it there, unpeed upon. I already made up my mind a week or so ago that *if* I get good news tomorrow, I can whiz on it afterward for grins (and to create a souvenir). But I am worried there will be nothing to smile about. I have no evidence one way or the other, really, but I just don't know. Ugh.