This is actually a word used by Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde to refer to the ambiguities inherent in prognostications culled from the gods - basically, these divine words are open to interpretation.
I use the word here not to refer to anything so deep as, say, the ultimate outcome of the Trojan war (which, as it turns out, is not at all open to interpretation, as much as Criseyde would care to differ), but in reference to our future - mine and TD's. Not about whether we'll have a future - we're strong as can be - but about what comes next for us. I won't recap yet again our odyssey to seek employment near to one another - ya'll know that rap already. That quest continues this year (MLA meet-up anyone?? Sis, I know I'll see you there, lady!) - but we've decided to wrest a bit of control over our lives from the job market this year. We've made some decisions about pursuing medieval babies.
I won't say anything further until it's time - and this is all academic at this point (or actually, we're making it decidedly not academic) - but we've started thinking about our future, what we want, what will happen, and we've made an awesome plan. And so, we're simultaneously seeking to eliminate amphibology (keep waiting for the market to hurl up the perfect situation for us? Hell no!) and also giving in to the amphibology (living together? Knowing what the future will bring career-wise or financially? No way!).
We've just made a choice to embrace the amphibologies of our lives and we're sort of trusting that things will work out...resistance is futile and if you build it, sprog will come...