i blame the fetus

Back from Oregon. Wasn’t nearly as wet or as cold as I’d expected. Even saw the stars some nights and some snatches of blue sky.

I didn’t write, though. Between work and doing stuff after work with work people and hanging out with family there wasn’t time. And maybe my fit of productivity the past couple weeks was due for a slowdown anyway. We came home early Monday morning so I could make it into work that day. The plan worked, but it wasn’t the best of days.

Up at 4am to catch the train to the airport, then our flight sat at the gate for 40min longer than it should’ve, then the bus to the car. I got rained on as I walked into work and my umbrella caught the wind and broke. At lunch I dropped my crusty roll in the elevator and scalded my thumb when I spilled hot squash soup on it. It’s karma. Punishing me because I took the Lord’s name in vain when my umbrella broke. Karma, God, whatever…

Tonight (Monday as I write) Sharaun’s got one of her infamous pregnancy migraines.  When she’s got one, she’s 100% out of commission.  This means that it’s Keaton and I on our own and fending for ourselves.  After we ate, we washed up and decided to put on a movie.  Is it saying something about me that I’m genuinely excited about the quality improvement on this new 50th anniversary remastered edition of Disney’s Sleeping Beauty?  I watched somewhat rapt comparing the new vibrant widescreen to the old dingy pan-and-scan we’re used to watching.  We don’t watch movies all that much… I actually start to feel guilty watching television as a form of “interacting” rather than doing something truly interactive.  Nine times out of ten I’ll put on some music and we’ll play house or Memory or dance together.  Tonight, though, dad took the easy road.

I blame the fetus.  Pregnancy’s a mess; and more than once I’ve thanked God that, for me, it’s merely a spectator sport.

It’s late now and I should be getting to bed.  Only, sometimes I think it’s not entirely worth it.  About 50% of the time I can’t get to sleep when I want to anyway.  Why is it that it’s so easy for me to fall asleep on the couch after getting home from work, yet when I finally retire for the evening and want “real” sleep so badly – it refuses to come on-demand?  At “real” bedtime I’ll lay flat as a board in bed and think of a million different things I’ve no reason to think about.  Money.  Time.  Music.  Work.  All sort of topics which would be much better served on a waking brain rather than one tortured for sweet slumber.  I read somewhere that you shouldn’t be on the computer in the last half hour before you want to go to bed, that it overstimulates you and you’ll have a hard time “coming down” to get to sleep.  That’s probably true.

We finally got the car back last week, just before leaving for Oregon. I almost forgot how to drive the thing.

Goodnight.

Also written on this day...

• wait a minute - 2023
• an undirected movement outward - 2019
• besting the 8 o'clock monster - 2009
• setting the scene, quoting the players - 2007
• put your hands up! - 2005
• throwing away good clothes - 2004