When should I start charting?

Back when we were trying to get Heather pregnant, it seemed like the answer to that question was "Immediately!"  No particular time frame; just "now."  It's like those sitcom episodes where the new parents are asked by condescending fellow parents in play group what preschools they've applied to and are met with scorn when they say they haven't applied at all.  That's how we felt, early on, when we wanted to get pregnant and hadn't taken morning temperatures or used fertility lenses.  What in holy hell is a fertility lens?

Now we know about fertility lenses and have a thermometer in the bedside table, but we aren't using either because, where my fertility is concerned, we're less behind the curve than we are hiding behind it.  If I want to get pregnant this summer, I should be tracking now: date and duration of each period, and probably all the ovulation signals, blah blah blah.  During Heather's ordeal, I started designing my own chart when I felt that the fertility charts available elsewhere did not meet our needs, around the same time that I bought a speculum and fertility tea.  Then we said "Fuck it" and got a fertility monitor.

So this morning I pulled out the monitor, hit that sweet little button, and it's time to go.  In a few days, I'll start peeing in a cup, and maybe in a month I can convince Heather to start checking my cervix.  It's handily located.  No charts this time, though; I have iCalendar, with color-coded notes on mucus and other symptoms.  Unless there's an awesome app, which there probably is.

I guess I'm operating on the assumption that my not-yet-thirty-year-old womb will succeed with minimal charting and maybe some fertility tea.  I don't like tea, but I'll drink it.  Perhaps I can make it into a smoothie with folic-acid-ful broccoli.  Then mark that on a chart.