  It's 11:20 pm and I'm still awake. Why? Well I'm 34 weeks pregnant and I have heartburn that would drop a goat... and you know goats, they eat anything so imagine the heartburn goats must get. I have 900 channels and there's nothing on television. Well, Will and Grace is on but that show is a little tired these days. I miss Becker.
I'm surprised that what's-his-name was actaully pretty good in that show. Oh, shit I can't remember his name. I hate it when that happens, when I can't remember something that's right on the tip of my brain. Tom something. Tom? No.
Watch, I'll remember in like a week and just blurt it out in the middle of a conversation and people will look at me funny like I'm some kind of autistic person with problems. So I can't sleep because I can't get comfortable and my throat is on fire from whatever the hell causes that when you have heartburn. Plus I keep burping so Hubby has kicked me out of the bedroom and told me to sleep in the recliner. Well, fuck you very much. So maybe I can be kind and reciprocate when he snores loud enough to make the dog bark. I don't know why but it seems like it's harder for me to get comfortable than anyone else, because I have to have the covers just so , and my hair has to be in a certain way and the pillow has to be sufficiently fluffed to support my head but not so fat so as to cause me undue neck pain, and by the time I get all situated I end up having to go and piss (one of the 50 times I get up at night to go pee with this pregnancy.
Talk about overkill. ) which makes me have to do all of that all over again. It drives Hubby crazy cause the bed squeaks and it takes me all of 20 minutes to finally get comfortable enough to sleep. I read about people with OCD having "rituals" they have to go through, like how they have to line up food just so before they eat it, or how they have to turn a page in a book in exactly the right way or end up having to read the page all over again (I think that was in Miss America by Howard Stern. ) and that got me thinking that maybe I have OCD because my bedtime ritual is about as annoying, but seemingly of total and utter importance to my having a good night's sleep. That, and lately I'm obsessed with the doors in my house.
I have to make sure all the doors are closed in my house, sometimes checking on them twice or three times, before I'm satisfied enough to leave the house. And I've become fastidious in my cleaning habits, and when things are out of whatever crazy ass order I need them to be in I go stark raving mad. Is this a pregnancy thing? I've always been strange about the bedtime thing, but it's only lately that I've been becoming outright angry at things being out of place or doors being left open. Something more to ask my doctor I guess. Poor woman, I know I've become a nuisance to her with my constant barrage of questions about the baby.
"Is it okay to do this, is it okay to do that, what's this funny pain, why am I peeing so much, the baby didn't move 10 times today is he okay..." I'm driving her nuts. I can't wait to see how she deals with me in the delivery room since I'm having no drugs... Who knows. She might forcibly give me an epidural just to shut me the hell up. Speaking of delivery rooms... is it wrong of me NOT to want my mother to be in the delivery room with me? A little backstory on my mom. She was my sister's caregiver of sorts until my sister died this past December.
Now Mom lives with my brother. I offered to have her out here in Cali for a week, 10 days so she can be there when my son is born. Now, I'm having second thoughts. Ever since Hubby and I started the childbirth classes I'm coming to realize more and more that I don't want her there, I want HIM. Only. My mom is a little nutso.. and I say that in the nicest way.
She's like the crazy-old-lady-down-the-street-with-all-the-cats-who-hates-neighborhood-children-and-has-100-lawn-ornaments type nutso. Endearingly nutso. (unless you make her mad, then Oh, hell. ) So anyway, I know that she's going to try to take over in there because she's a slight know it all (gee, where do I get it from? ) and I don't want her to piss Hubby off as she is wont to do. I guess I'll talk to my dog about it and see what he thinks.
My dog is pretty smart, for a dog. And he listens without judging which is nice. I can rant to my dog and he just puts his paw on my knee and burps as if to say, "Hey, don't sweat it. By the way, smell my ass-breath. " So anyway I'm still awake and this is turning into a novel. Is there a limit to how long this thing can be?
Am I using up too much bandwidth? I learned a new word today, bandwidth. It means... something about taking up space on the internet. I must not have been too interested when I read about it because it's already out of my mind. As are most things. I never get an opportunity to exercise my brain now that Hubby is working every day.
Nobody is home with me except my dog, and while he's a great listener, he doesn't contribute much to the conversation. Has anyone noticed how shitty a singer Paul Schaffer from the David Letterman show is? He's doing "Try a Little Tenderness" and he sounds like a Karaoke Nightmare. Dear Mr. Schaffer, please stick to what you know... kissing Dave's ass and fruity ties. Thanks, the Management. Anyway that's it for now.
I've drank enough water to flood a small midwestern town and most likely will be back up typing more useless drivel once the many pee trips to the bathroom annoy me enough to send me back out here to watch more TV. Peace. Ted Danson. That's him. Fuck. See?
I told you! And by the way, if this entry seems like just a block of text that's totally uninviting to read, please tell me how to fix that because I just previewed my entry and my paragraphs didn't show up. Paragraphs are the essence of any good story and makes them flow , so the reader's brain knows when the one idea ends and another begins. Come on, blogspot, don't force me to type without paragraphs! That is all. 
