So, the test was inconclusive. Now I have to send more DNA for a different test, costing me another squillion pounds and taking another eternity. It's funny how time slows down in these situations. If I was lying on a beach sipping frozen margaritas then the three more weeks that I have to wait would feel like about 25 minutes. It's not fair! (god, I sound like my children when I say that).
It does seem more than a little ridiculous that the people who were supposed to be the adults in this situation (my parents, of course - all three of them!) couldn't behave as such and FIND THIS OUT FOR THEMSELVES YEARS AGO. But then, they might have actually had to deal with the consequences. Far better to leave it to me, in the midst of depression, to deal with it all by myself (well, except for the dozen or so people who know all about it, none of whom are the protagonists of course).
Do I sound bitter? Maybe I am just a little. Maybe I would also like to be able to stick my head in the sand and pretend this isn't all happening. Maybe I have done that for long enough and it is time already.
*insert primal scream here*
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