Elvis has left the building

So I was so ridiculously anxious to go to bed last night in hopes that I'd wake to another day of temperatures rising and soaring like a pigeon in a mall parking lot, thus confirming ovulation and proving that not only do I know better than my RE, but I am a wonder woman of superhuman strength and abilities. You know, because I'm awesome and thought that I could beat an anovulatory diagnosis with vegetables... or something like that. Wait, that's exactly it. I guess it just made more sense before I put it in writing.

But alas, it was not in the cards for this infertility crime-fighter. In fact, I have officially been bamboozled by my ovaries. And if you know me, you know that I do not take bamboozling lightly.

So what's a girl to do--languish about my batcave and waiting for ovulation when all of the "normal" body signs point to that train has already arrived, boarded, and departed for sunnier skies? My temps say one thing, my CP and CM say another--who's a girl to believe? Unfortunately for me and my wonky ovaries, the temps cannot lie, so I'm just left a sad little anovulatory kitteh today.