I get the fall J. Crew catalog in the mail today. You know when I am about to birth and be a big, flubbery, gross, milk factory, dead hoo, sleepless, hot mess. How depressing. I just laid in bed with it (occasionally licking it) wondering how long it would take me to lose 500lbs of baby and 400lbs of fluid. A week?
I get a bill in the mail from one of my 10,000 renal ultrasounds. Ultrasound $218. Insurance coverage $3. My total $215. Awesome. Thanks. And since when is an ultrasound to determine if you are indeed going to die of kidney failure experimental? Shut up.
A going to vacation bible school. I know. I know. It was an act of desperation. And not in finding the Lord. In trying to let A have some semblance of fun this summer away from her mom who is a grouchy, psycho, fat pig. Poor A. On Tuesday I walked in to pick her up only to be greeted by the preacher yelling "WHO'S BEEN FOUND?" In panic mode I tried to locate A who was very busy screaming "ME ME ME ME ME" and dancing. Holy shit. I almost went into labor.
The fact that there is currently a kitten residing in our house. I needed one more thing to do.
The phone call I received from hubby announcing his intentions to travel to NYC the week I am to be induced. Really? I think that's an awesome plan.
My bladder is infected again. Mostly because my kidney stones are rotting and molding and curdling and whatever else kidney stones that won't leave your body do. I'm on antibiotics now until birth. If you need me I will be in bed itching my yeasty hoo with an SOS pad. And I could give two shits if that's too much info. Don't you want to come visit?