I have no idea what that title means. Yes, I’m waiting in the doctor’s office right now for the 3rd of my 4 (at least) weekly visits. Yes, it’s the title of a Butterglory (anybody remember those guys?) song. What the two have to do with each other is locked away in my very sleepy pregnant brain.
I brought along my laptop today to get some work done while waiting. Last week, I sat here for over an hour waiting for the doctor, so I thought I’d come prepared today. I’m making a last desperate push to finish as much work as possible before labor. I did finish one piece, but completely flaked and thought I’d be able to do a little more research on another one while here. Hello? Not every location has wireless internet yet, my friend.
As far as this fetus goes, we’re good to go. Diaper service has got us stocked up, The Bag has been completed and picked up, doula is packed and ready to go (on her vacation, that is, she leaves on July 1 for the whole month), even Auggie is wondering when this baby is coming already.
Tim and I got to go out one last time last night to see one of my favorite bands, Spoon. The show was good, really good, but standing for two hours straight was not so good. Even the limited amount of dancing I did was not so good. The double-takes from all the barely-legals in the crowd upon seeing such a very, very pregnant woman as me weren’t that good, but were mildly amusing. Waking Tim up in the middle of the night with my screams of “Ow! Ow! Ow!”Â as I writhed in agony with a leg cramp was definitely in the “not good”Â category. The suffering we do for indie rock…
OK, so maybe there are a few things left to do. But they mostly involve cleaning my house and car, and you don’t really want to hear about my psychoses revolving around my mother and cleanliness, do you?