Pant. We are in the big state of Georgia househunting like bandits. Well, not literally bandits. We haven't stolen anything except for a pack of chocolate chip cookies from the maid's cart at the hotel and that was clearly necessary for me to have my fix. Looking at 35 houses in two days is really exhausting on one who is gestating a fetus. I really don't recommend it to anyone who is considering it as a fun getaway.
A few things that have come of the trip.....
As I mentioned previously, people are just nasty. It shocks me the number of people who simply live in squalor. And who live in fairly nice houses in squalor! I mean, houses are expensive! If you make that kind of investment, why would you not take care of it? It blows my mind how many people seem to have no idea that they are living in a house which is on the market. Almost like it's a surprise to see that sign in their yard. It seems that many people have never heard of touch up paint. Or sweeping, for that matter. Blagh.
We are narrowed down to seven at this point, and none of them contain existing squalor. Several of them do contain some renovation potential or basement finising needs, but that was to be expected.
A sidenote that came up last night...
My husband is notorious for getting car sick. As long as he's driving, he's fine. If he's in the front seat, he's usually okay. He doesn't do well in the back. As a result, my strained round ligament, crooked aching back, fat, uncomfortable self has taken the backseat for two days. I did this because it's not worth it for him to be feeling sickly and me to have to listen to him complain. Last night, he had the audacity to claim that having carsickness is just as bad as being pregnant. He said it's the same intensity. Because carsickness totally lasts for ten months. I did not punch him, but considered my options.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Piglet Update
I don't update about Piglet nearly as often as a good mommy should. He's a good little man, almost 19 months old, quite sturdy and very active. He's really into talking these days, and according to Eddie's nerdy word survey, he's up to around 150 words.
He is obsessed with airplanes and construction equipment, which he calls "Jay Jays" and "chactohs" respectively. He loves to water plants, dust, Swiffer, vacuum, and help with laundry. I think he will make someone a great husband someday. Though he has not done it yet, he's very interested in lawn mowers, his word for which sounds very much like the word he uses for my brother in law Daniel and, um, banjos. Daniel, banjo, and lawnmower - clearly a connection, right? If you want to speak fluent Piglet, you should also know that "may-moe" can mean remote, mailbox, or Elmo.
Piglet has become very aware of pooping. He likes to announce exactly what I'm doing in the toilet at the moment it is happening. ("Poo poo! Pee pee!") He also likes to assist with the process by handing me "pape" to wipe with. He ends his involvement by waving to the flushing water and occasionally reaching in to swish his hand through the water/pee. Now, when it comes to his pooping, he doesn't care for an audience, though my poops are a total spectator sport. If I even look at him when he's pooping, I am firmly dismissed with a shoo of the hand and a "MAMA! BUH BYE!" until I look away or leave. Sensitive. During a diaper change, if there's poop in it, he'll say "Hooooo!" the way I do when something stinks, then follow it with a bye bye. ("Hooo! Bye bye!")
In other language development, Piglet loves his wagon (wawee!), his slide (wee!) and yogurt (wee wee!). This bit of vocabulary can lead to some interesting statements from adults' mouths if they try to speak his language instead of saying the correct words. From my husband recently: "Piglet, if you eat your wee wee, we can go play with your wee." Hopefully no one listens over our fence or at our windows. Piglet still isn't interested in TV, but will look at books for long periods of time, especially if they have lifty flaps. He won't eat meat or bread, but enjoys any cheese, yogurt, dairy, fruit or veggie you put in front of him, so who am I to complain?
The Piglet is always in a state of great disarray. Though he's not one to cry about it, he gets injured every 30 minutes or so as a result of charging into everything at full speed with no regard for safety. His idea of sliding is running down the slide and bashing into the grass with open arms and a holler. Therefore, there is always a bruise on his face, a cut on his cheek, and an unexplained owie somewhere on his hands/arms/legs. His hair won't lay down properly and gives him a constant look of mischief. Speaking of mischief, Gus is his very best friend in the world and can do no wrong in his eyes. Piglet thinks he is perfect. The feeling is not entirely mutual.
Piglet has no patience for a diaper change and will lie to your face about even the most obvious of smelly offenses in his pants. He likes to "go-go" all the time. He does not care for stop lights, chats with neighbors, or my involvement in a phone conversation. He cuddles only before nap and bedtime while reading stories, and for that he will use his "again" sign for as many times as you will read Goodnight Moon to him. Or his stimulating book about construction equipment.
He likes to be sung to, and he loves to dance. He likes shoes, but not hats, broccoli, but not muffins, and will play outside all day if allowed. His favorite word is wipes, which he pronounces "WOPS!" with great enthusiasm and a spray of spittle. His girlfriend is named Alice and she keeps him straight and tells him how it is, the way a good girlfriend should. They have recently learned to hold hands and are pretty adorable.
He is obsessed with airplanes and construction equipment, which he calls "Jay Jays" and "chactohs" respectively. He loves to water plants, dust, Swiffer, vacuum, and help with laundry. I think he will make someone a great husband someday. Though he has not done it yet, he's very interested in lawn mowers, his word for which sounds very much like the word he uses for my brother in law Daniel and, um, banjos. Daniel, banjo, and lawnmower - clearly a connection, right? If you want to speak fluent Piglet, you should also know that "may-moe" can mean remote, mailbox, or Elmo.
Piglet has become very aware of pooping. He likes to announce exactly what I'm doing in the toilet at the moment it is happening. ("Poo poo! Pee pee!") He also likes to assist with the process by handing me "pape" to wipe with. He ends his involvement by waving to the flushing water and occasionally reaching in to swish his hand through the water/pee. Now, when it comes to his pooping, he doesn't care for an audience, though my poops are a total spectator sport. If I even look at him when he's pooping, I am firmly dismissed with a shoo of the hand and a "MAMA! BUH BYE!" until I look away or leave. Sensitive. During a diaper change, if there's poop in it, he'll say "Hooooo!" the way I do when something stinks, then follow it with a bye bye. ("Hooo! Bye bye!")
In other language development, Piglet loves his wagon (wawee!), his slide (wee!) and yogurt (wee wee!). This bit of vocabulary can lead to some interesting statements from adults' mouths if they try to speak his language instead of saying the correct words. From my husband recently: "Piglet, if you eat your wee wee, we can go play with your wee." Hopefully no one listens over our fence or at our windows. Piglet still isn't interested in TV, but will look at books for long periods of time, especially if they have lifty flaps. He won't eat meat or bread, but enjoys any cheese, yogurt, dairy, fruit or veggie you put in front of him, so who am I to complain?
The Piglet is always in a state of great disarray. Though he's not one to cry about it, he gets injured every 30 minutes or so as a result of charging into everything at full speed with no regard for safety. His idea of sliding is running down the slide and bashing into the grass with open arms and a holler. Therefore, there is always a bruise on his face, a cut on his cheek, and an unexplained owie somewhere on his hands/arms/legs. His hair won't lay down properly and gives him a constant look of mischief. Speaking of mischief, Gus is his very best friend in the world and can do no wrong in his eyes. Piglet thinks he is perfect. The feeling is not entirely mutual.
Piglet has no patience for a diaper change and will lie to your face about even the most obvious of smelly offenses in his pants. He likes to "go-go" all the time. He does not care for stop lights, chats with neighbors, or my involvement in a phone conversation. He cuddles only before nap and bedtime while reading stories, and for that he will use his "again" sign for as many times as you will read Goodnight Moon to him. Or his stimulating book about construction equipment.
He likes to be sung to, and he loves to dance. He likes shoes, but not hats, broccoli, but not muffins, and will play outside all day if allowed. His favorite word is wipes, which he pronounces "WOPS!" with great enthusiasm and a spray of spittle. His girlfriend is named Alice and she keeps him straight and tells him how it is, the way a good girlfriend should. They have recently learned to hold hands and are pretty adorable.
That summary should about cover the last six months or so, and I'll try to be a more consistent poster regarding the Piglet in the future. I leave you with a picture of the little mongrel in a rare picture that doesn't have a blur of motion in it.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Get it!
There's a gene that runs in my family called the Snake Killing Gene. For those of us who have it, it makes perfectly good sense and makes life much simpler. For those around us, it seems to be an annoying imperfection.
How would you kill a snake? As fast as possible, of course. This is how I go about my daily tasks and routines. As a result, I am extremely efficient. I get lots of things done in a short amount of time and I can mark things off of a list with the speed of lightning. Now, is my work of the highest quality? You don't have to ask my husband the engineer to guess that the answer is no. In our house, if you want something done fast, I'm in charge, if you want something done right, he is. (Though it KILLS me to tolerate him slugging through a task. It takes forEVER.)
Last night I spent two hours making lists. Actually, I began making a list of the lists that I needed to make, then my lesser lists evolved from from that list. It might seem strange that someone who likes to kill snakes would spend this much time making lists, but it's just so satisfying. If I don't write things down, they swim around in my head keeping me awake at night, but writing them down gives me a sense of accomplishment close to that of finishing a task quickly.
So that brings me to my lip picking. This is not a family gene, it's just a bad habit of mine which pops up when I'm stressed or busy. I'm a picker in general...I like a nice scab or a nose (well, not any nose, I prefer my own), but a lip has always done in times of boredom or stress. I find it calming. Anyway...I got to making these lists last night and took to picking and lo and behold came up with an impressive array of lists. I went to bed feeling relieved and purged. And a little sore in the lip.
My lists? As follows:
Things to take on househunting trip next week
Piglet's schedule for grandparents
Piglet's list of allowable foods for grandparents
Things for grandparents to bring to Georgia
Things to buy at IKEA before we move
Things to do to the house this weekend before meeting with TX realtor
Things to ask Texas realtor
Things to ask Georgia realtor
Things to do the weekend before the house goes on the market
Things to buy before Cletus the Fetus is born
Appointments to make before moving
Paperwork to complete for relocation company, movers, GA realtor, TX realtor
Things for Mr. Pigs to take in the car during move
Things for me to take on plane during move
Things we like about our house to go in listing
Things that can be done to/for new house after Mr. Pigs gets there before movers arrive.
And, of course, my weekly/daily to do list
You can imagine my relief to get that all written down. That many things swimming around in one's head can really keep one awake at night. But, so can too many chocolate chip cookies, so I have a situation with confounding variables. If I wasn't a snake killer, I might sit around and ponder the cause, but really, I just want to get this post finished and posted.
How would you kill a snake? As fast as possible, of course. This is how I go about my daily tasks and routines. As a result, I am extremely efficient. I get lots of things done in a short amount of time and I can mark things off of a list with the speed of lightning. Now, is my work of the highest quality? You don't have to ask my husband the engineer to guess that the answer is no. In our house, if you want something done fast, I'm in charge, if you want something done right, he is. (Though it KILLS me to tolerate him slugging through a task. It takes forEVER.)
Last night I spent two hours making lists. Actually, I began making a list of the lists that I needed to make, then my lesser lists evolved from from that list. It might seem strange that someone who likes to kill snakes would spend this much time making lists, but it's just so satisfying. If I don't write things down, they swim around in my head keeping me awake at night, but writing them down gives me a sense of accomplishment close to that of finishing a task quickly.
So that brings me to my lip picking. This is not a family gene, it's just a bad habit of mine which pops up when I'm stressed or busy. I'm a picker in general...I like a nice scab or a nose (well, not any nose, I prefer my own), but a lip has always done in times of boredom or stress. I find it calming. Anyway...I got to making these lists last night and took to picking and lo and behold came up with an impressive array of lists. I went to bed feeling relieved and purged. And a little sore in the lip.
My lists? As follows:
Things to take on househunting trip next week
Piglet's schedule for grandparents
Piglet's list of allowable foods for grandparents
Things for grandparents to bring to Georgia
Things to buy at IKEA before we move
Things to do to the house this weekend before meeting with TX realtor
Things to ask Texas realtor
Things to ask Georgia realtor
Things to do the weekend before the house goes on the market
Things to buy before Cletus the Fetus is born
Appointments to make before moving
Paperwork to complete for relocation company, movers, GA realtor, TX realtor
Things for Mr. Pigs to take in the car during move
Things for me to take on plane during move
Things we like about our house to go in listing
Things that can be done to/for new house after Mr. Pigs gets there before movers arrive.
And, of course, my weekly/daily to do list
You can imagine my relief to get that all written down. That many things swimming around in one's head can really keep one awake at night. But, so can too many chocolate chip cookies, so I have a situation with confounding variables. If I wasn't a snake killer, I might sit around and ponder the cause, but really, I just want to get this post finished and posted.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Love It, Hate It
I have a large crush on David Cook on American Idol. The guy sang a Mariah Carey song and made it awesome. He's the bee's knees.
I cannot stand that moron Natalie on Big Brother. She's like some freaky cartoon character who dresses like a skank in teenage clothes and has the IQ of dirt. I want to reach out and punch her through the TV. This urge is probably related to pregnancy somehow, but it's there nonetheless.
I cannot stand that moron Natalie on Big Brother. She's like some freaky cartoon character who dresses like a skank in teenage clothes and has the IQ of dirt. I want to reach out and punch her through the TV. This urge is probably related to pregnancy somehow, but it's there nonetheless.
By the by....
Eddie has mentioned that all that is available on her Freecycle is goats or other livestock, and until this week I thought that was strange. It was strange until I saw a request pop up from an individual begging for someone to come pull her husband's teeth. It seems that she was tired of hearing him complain about them and couldn't get a dentist appointment. One would think I should feel sorry for them, but all I could do was giggle.
Friday, April 11, 2008
C is for Cookie
I realize that I am not the most stellar blogger, but some of you people have been slack lately! My little blogroll down there? There are rarely any happy little *s beside your names! It makes me very sad to not have any blogs to read. Especially now, when I can't stop making and eating chocolate chip cookies. You know what goes really well with cookies? Blogs.
I'm also just about to run out of books in my To Be Read pile. I'm in need of a new author or book. You can see the kinds of books I like to read along my sidebar, but I'll take any suggestions you have if you've read something good lately. Also good with cookies? Books.
Ice cream goes better with TV logistically. You really need two hands to do it right. Though we did not have time to watch the new Offfice last night, we did watch 30 Rock and boy, was it good to have it back in the rotation! Now if we can just get some Grey's Anatomy, this ice cream grubbing couch potato will be happy! Not to worry, I've got plenty of America's Next Top Model, Paradise Hotel, and Big Brother to pull me through. Baby brain is bad enough by itself, but my TV selections have got to be watering down my IQ. I should probably be concerned, but all I can think about are the warm cookies on my counter. Duty calls!
I'm also just about to run out of books in my To Be Read pile. I'm in need of a new author or book. You can see the kinds of books I like to read along my sidebar, but I'll take any suggestions you have if you've read something good lately. Also good with cookies? Books.
Ice cream goes better with TV logistically. You really need two hands to do it right. Though we did not have time to watch the new Offfice last night, we did watch 30 Rock and boy, was it good to have it back in the rotation! Now if we can just get some Grey's Anatomy, this ice cream grubbing couch potato will be happy! Not to worry, I've got plenty of America's Next Top Model, Paradise Hotel, and Big Brother to pull me through. Baby brain is bad enough by itself, but my TV selections have got to be watering down my IQ. I should probably be concerned, but all I can think about are the warm cookies on my counter. Duty calls!
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Recommended by Pigs
Crisco spray for baking cups
Miss Guided - cute
30 Rock - smart
Paradise Hotel 2 - tah-RASHY!
Snack Traps
Clorox bleach pen for shower grout
Mother's Special Blend oil for stretch marks, rough elbows, etc
Roomba
Pillsbury Ready Made cookies
Plum Smart plum juice in lieu of prune
paperbackswap.com
Got anything you recommend?
Miss Guided - cute
30 Rock - smart
Paradise Hotel 2 - tah-RASHY!
Snack Traps
Clorox bleach pen for shower grout
Mother's Special Blend oil for stretch marks, rough elbows, etc
Roomba
Pillsbury Ready Made cookies
Plum Smart plum juice in lieu of prune
paperbackswap.com
Got anything you recommend?
Monday, April 07, 2008
Is it gerbil?
Well, the good news is that I did not gain nine pounds this month. The bad news is that it appears that my kidney stones may be back. I wish I knew what was causing them, but my doctor says there's no way to tell without catching one. Uh huh. Let me just get the sieve and I'll let you know what I come up with. So basically, I need to drink, drink, drink more water to try to water down whatever it is making stones in there. I hope this goes away post-pregnancy. Or, in 84 days, if you're counting.
In other news.....my husband TOOK A DAY OFF OF WORK today! I honestly think this is the first time in the ten years I have known him that he has done this. Of course, he spent the day working like a slave getting the house ready for our inspection on Wednesday. As though we haven't been working on it for about two months now. "Finishing touches" the engineer says. Umkay.
I know we are one extreme, but it's the other extreme that blows my mind. I fully expect to see some when we go house hunting in Georgia this month....you know what I'm talking about....those people? The ones who don't seem to be aware that someone - someone! - has in fact put their house on the market! They've gone to work leaving the dog loose in the house, the breakfast dishes in the sink, and general squalor in the living room. And usually, there's some sort of unidentifiable odor permeating the house. Is it gerbil? Last night's dinner? Do you really want to know? I just can't imagine keeping your house anything less than impeccable if you're trying to sell it.
The harder part for me is going to be a part of heading back South. It's really challenging for me to look past the country decor of the late 80s that dominates the style of many of the houses we have viewed online. If you kind of squint your eyes until the picture gets hazy, you can blur out the ruffly flowered curtains and the blue and pink floral wallpaper. The wallpaper borders get a little trickier, but the doilies and doodads bedecking the end tables which flank the boldy patterned (blue, floral) couch are hard to miss. It's distracting, all the stuff. I'm sure there's things people won't love about my house either, so maybe I should hush.
Anyhoo....that's a ramble for you today. Don't look for any deep meanings or clear cut themes because they are certain to be lacking. A happy Tuesday to you tomorrow. (As you know, it's always Tuesday.)
In other news.....my husband TOOK A DAY OFF OF WORK today! I honestly think this is the first time in the ten years I have known him that he has done this. Of course, he spent the day working like a slave getting the house ready for our inspection on Wednesday. As though we haven't been working on it for about two months now. "Finishing touches" the engineer says. Umkay.
I know we are one extreme, but it's the other extreme that blows my mind. I fully expect to see some when we go house hunting in Georgia this month....you know what I'm talking about....those people? The ones who don't seem to be aware that someone - someone! - has in fact put their house on the market! They've gone to work leaving the dog loose in the house, the breakfast dishes in the sink, and general squalor in the living room. And usually, there's some sort of unidentifiable odor permeating the house. Is it gerbil? Last night's dinner? Do you really want to know? I just can't imagine keeping your house anything less than impeccable if you're trying to sell it.
The harder part for me is going to be a part of heading back South. It's really challenging for me to look past the country decor of the late 80s that dominates the style of many of the houses we have viewed online. If you kind of squint your eyes until the picture gets hazy, you can blur out the ruffly flowered curtains and the blue and pink floral wallpaper. The wallpaper borders get a little trickier, but the doilies and doodads bedecking the end tables which flank the boldy patterned (blue, floral) couch are hard to miss. It's distracting, all the stuff. I'm sure there's things people won't love about my house either, so maybe I should hush.
Anyhoo....that's a ramble for you today. Don't look for any deep meanings or clear cut themes because they are certain to be lacking. A happy Tuesday to you tomorrow. (As you know, it's always Tuesday.)
Thursday, April 03, 2008
The Motherlode
If you haven't signed up for Freecycle in your area yet, you might want to get on that, especially if you have kids. This picture below shows the loot that one woman was giving away this morning after cleaning out her playroom. It would now be in my playroom.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
For real? Are they serious?
I feel like complaining.
These women who claim to love being pregnant? You know, the ones who are actually disappointed when it's over? There has to be some sort of psychological disorder that would accurately describe them. Like maybe insanity? How is it possible to enjoy this process? The only theory that I can come up with is that they love attention. There's no other logical explanation.
'Cause here's the real deal. I'm going to try to limit it to eating, sleeping, and pooping....three activities that are the core events in my life. Well, in my regular life. In my more gestational life, these things are all somewhat limited. Here's the problem. I go about eating a normal dinner and find myself miserably full, since Cletus (the fetus) is lounging comfortably in my abdomen, shoving my stomach up into my neck somewhere, limiting its capacity.
Oh, and the food that I'm eating? It's all sprinkled with flaxseed meal for extra fiber. I mean everything: yogurt, sandwiches, spaghetti....flaxseed goes in anything but ice cream. I drink plum jucie and snack on prunes. I drink enough water that I pee approximately every 20 minutes. I scrutinize package labels for the fiber grams and try to fill up on salad before meals. I drink Metamucil. It's like I'm 80 years old. And I haven't even mentioned my bladder control issues.
So, after dinner I groan and moan for a while, hefting my stomach around in my hands because by the end of the day it's pulling on my back. Not two hours later, I'm starving. I simply must eat before I go to bed. Usually a cheese sandwich and a bowl of ice cream. Soon comes bedtime, but a horizontal position brings on the next issue: reflux. I realize that I shouldn't eat before bed, but if I don't, my stomach growls all night and I dream about food and cooking. But the eating is bad. When one's stomach is in one's throat it makes it quite easy to vurp hot burny vurps as one attempts to fall asleep.
Not that one could prop up on pillows and sleep on their back, of course, because that would break the "no sleeping on your back" rule which causes some artery or something to be mashed and ruin you and your baby. That, and I can't breathe. So, I prop up on pillows and sleep on my side. Let's take the left side tonight. Well....I have scoliosis and the way my back curves does not jive with the double pillow left side approach and leaves me with an aching neck and a numb left arm within 30 minutes.
Did I mention that I am also intimately entwined around a body pillow named Phil? With my numb arm and stiff neck I hurl Phil over my body and gear up to launch my heft from left to right. It lands with a soft thud atop Phil and I pant for a few moments as I try to wriggle into a more comfortable position. Fall asleep. Within 30 minutes, the sciatic nerve in my right hip is on fire from the weight pressing it into the mattress. Repeat process back to right side. Swallow burny vurp. Realize have to pee. Repeat process tens of times during night.
Is this really what people miss? Or is it the uncoordinated bashing of body parts into walls, doors, and furniture? Is it having to stain stick the stomach region of your shirt every night when you change out of it? Maybe it's the bleeding gums or the inside out belly button that people find sexy. If it wasn't for the ice cream, I don't think I'd make it. If anyone has any insight into the minds of these crazy people, do share. If you are one of them, prepare yourself for my withering stare. I shun you.
These women who claim to love being pregnant? You know, the ones who are actually disappointed when it's over? There has to be some sort of psychological disorder that would accurately describe them. Like maybe insanity? How is it possible to enjoy this process? The only theory that I can come up with is that they love attention. There's no other logical explanation.
'Cause here's the real deal. I'm going to try to limit it to eating, sleeping, and pooping....three activities that are the core events in my life. Well, in my regular life. In my more gestational life, these things are all somewhat limited. Here's the problem. I go about eating a normal dinner and find myself miserably full, since Cletus (the fetus) is lounging comfortably in my abdomen, shoving my stomach up into my neck somewhere, limiting its capacity.
Oh, and the food that I'm eating? It's all sprinkled with flaxseed meal for extra fiber. I mean everything: yogurt, sandwiches, spaghetti....flaxseed goes in anything but ice cream. I drink plum jucie and snack on prunes. I drink enough water that I pee approximately every 20 minutes. I scrutinize package labels for the fiber grams and try to fill up on salad before meals. I drink Metamucil. It's like I'm 80 years old. And I haven't even mentioned my bladder control issues.
So, after dinner I groan and moan for a while, hefting my stomach around in my hands because by the end of the day it's pulling on my back. Not two hours later, I'm starving. I simply must eat before I go to bed. Usually a cheese sandwich and a bowl of ice cream. Soon comes bedtime, but a horizontal position brings on the next issue: reflux. I realize that I shouldn't eat before bed, but if I don't, my stomach growls all night and I dream about food and cooking. But the eating is bad. When one's stomach is in one's throat it makes it quite easy to vurp hot burny vurps as one attempts to fall asleep.
Not that one could prop up on pillows and sleep on their back, of course, because that would break the "no sleeping on your back" rule which causes some artery or something to be mashed and ruin you and your baby. That, and I can't breathe. So, I prop up on pillows and sleep on my side. Let's take the left side tonight. Well....I have scoliosis and the way my back curves does not jive with the double pillow left side approach and leaves me with an aching neck and a numb left arm within 30 minutes.
Did I mention that I am also intimately entwined around a body pillow named Phil? With my numb arm and stiff neck I hurl Phil over my body and gear up to launch my heft from left to right. It lands with a soft thud atop Phil and I pant for a few moments as I try to wriggle into a more comfortable position. Fall asleep. Within 30 minutes, the sciatic nerve in my right hip is on fire from the weight pressing it into the mattress. Repeat process back to right side. Swallow burny vurp. Realize have to pee. Repeat process tens of times during night.
Is this really what people miss? Or is it the uncoordinated bashing of body parts into walls, doors, and furniture? Is it having to stain stick the stomach region of your shirt every night when you change out of it? Maybe it's the bleeding gums or the inside out belly button that people find sexy. If it wasn't for the ice cream, I don't think I'd make it. If anyone has any insight into the minds of these crazy people, do share. If you are one of them, prepare yourself for my withering stare. I shun you.
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