Phew! You made it just under the wire. You are so relieved that you praise the gods. In fact, you give serious thought to becoming Catholic. Or Lutheran. Or Hindu. Anything other than your vague Unitarian leanings, so that you can properly honor the deity who has blessed you thusly.
After school, for the second day in a row you screech out of the parking lot as students are being dismissed, wishing that your car weren’t so distinctive, and trying to hide from the super-observant eyes of your fellow teachers on bus duty, heading for your first appointment with the most highly recommended fertility acupuncturist in town. You are pleased as punch when you tell her you got a positive OPK, and allow her to needle and moxa away all the bad karma/funky mojo/crap of the last 10 months, hoping that this will clear the way for good times ahead.
Unfortunately, instead of enjoying that fuzzy post-acupuncture sleepy bliss, you have to get in the car and hightail it to the semi-seedy beer and wine store for another round of dry ice. When you finally arrive at home, you kiss your wonderful wife and hand her a syringe and the first vial. Following her tender ministrations, you drift gently off to sleep with dreams of sperm and eggs dancing in your head. You wake up the next morning at 4:30 am, repeat the procedure, and leave for a short day at work before flying off to the wilds of New Hampshire.
HOORAY! SPERMISSION ACCOMPLISHED!