Poor Wife
This whole gestation thing is really wearing the poor girl out. She naps more than the cats and only can sober up to a slightly beyond zombie-like state to eat half a corn chip (Or half a cheesecake. It varies.), cry, give the cats undeserved positive attention, and curse me for what I've done to her. I wonder if God has some sort of bizarre master-plan sense of humor and is laughing at my longing for the almost-logical universe in which I thought I existed.
I'm starting to think of all the little things I'm going to miss from now on. Like sleep, sex, and making asenine comments like these without having to worry about the corruption of an innocent mind. Oh, and fantasy baseball, too...Kyle Farnsworth, I hardley knew ye...
1 comments:
I remember these days--A few more days and she should be back to feeling like her old self or even better. Try bannana popcycles by Kemps if you can find them. It is a long shot but worth it if it works. In the meantime, think about all the time you have to play fantasy baseball. Sorry to hear about the car.
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