But she did. MIL threw the baby card. With a smiley face. And I didn’t go off. Yay, me! Thank something for email…and the ability to not be impulsive for once in my life. Shudder to think what could have flown out of my fingers if I hadn’t stopped to think for a nanosecond, or if we’d been on the phone. She’ll still be amused…hopefully. Hahaha. Oh well, I am anyway.
Thank something else that my own mother isn’t so obvious. Breaks my heart to see the little gender-neutral afghan she started…what, three plus years ago now? Yikes. I can’t look too hard at it. It just sits there. It’s going to be a freaking king-sized bedspread by the time I have any use for it. C’est la vie. But she doesn’t say anything, which is nice, especially since when I explained the matter at the time she looked at me like an alien, as if she had no concept that such a thing could happen. Pregnant, baby, right? Nooo….not so much, Mom. Not so much. Sorry. Rough way to learn that ten week rule about when to tell people. Blergblergblerg. Wrong place to start if I’m wanting a pleasant flashback. Where was I going with this? Oh, yes, Alabama. It’s a different world, I tell ya. Not one I think I’d like to live in for any length of time. I prefer my own bubble. The walls are shiny and it smells all soapy-like. Also nice? The calendar that says 2010. I hate to have to remind people what year it is, but…wow, some people seriously would prefer to live in the sixties. Granted, I’m all for some peace, love, and hippie beads and antidisestablishmentarianism (there may be one syllable too many there), but COME ON. I’m pretty sure I know what my job is around here. It ain’t what you think. Or you. Or you. Quit thinking. The brain? It’s trying to kill me. The stress? It’s showing up in my FEET. And apparently is contagious, as what I thought was a flare up of the minor injury sustained when I wrecked the Ion has somehow moved from the left foot to the right…? That makes no sense. I must be twitching with new muscle groups or something. Stress is an odd animal. Not a cuddly one. Where’s my teddy bear? Dammit. It done went and are you enn enn oh eff tee.