GRRR. I ended up getting really woozy at work (probably the extended time rolling around on the ultrasound table) and puking. Good times. I came home and began dealing with red tape and beauracracy in other financial issues in my life. Good times. I can’t seem to get anyone to help me with any of my questions or problems. All they can say is “there is definitely a problem.” Which, you know, really? Thanks. I knew that. That’s why I called.
I still don’t feel great. Of course it all goes back to my inability to breathe which we can now blame on NikkiZ laying SIDEWAYS under my ribcage. Which, did I mention she’s SIDEWAYS? And have I mentioned that I want her to be in the RIGHT position so that I can wow my husband with my amazing pain tolerance and make it through natural childbirth never once muttering anything other than “Honey, can I have some ice chips, please?” whereby assuring he’ll always worship me as the amazingly brave and strong woman I know I can be?
(Yes. I’m delusional. In my fantasy world, that’s how it works and he spends the rest of our lives together bragging about me and my brilliance to anyone and everyone he encounters. I’m in a foul mood. Don’t burst my bubble.)
I’m just feeling a little pissy. Can you tell?