So here’s the thing. I’m sick.
I’m one of the lucky people with whom pregnancy does NOT agree, and as a result, I am miserable. I am only half-joking when I say if I’d known it was going to be this bad, I’d have gone for a ready-made instead of bake-your-own.
Everyone I’ve encountered in the medical establishment seems to think this is charming. I want to punch them all in the face. Except the ones who prescribe the anti-nausea drugs. They can stay. I love them long time.
I know nobody wants to hear about the mood swings, or the exhaustion, or the nausea, or the hurling, or the pooping (or more specifically, the lack thereof).
But in the 12 hours a day I manage to stay awake (I suppose it could be longer, but honestly, I am so sick of being sick that I sleep a lot to escape the symptoms) that is pretty much all that’s going on.
So unless I win the lottery or spaceships land on my roof or my dog suddenly learns to talk, consider this blog on hold.
Go, look at the kittens, I will hopefully be back and feeling much better in a few weeks.