Today hates me. I hate it, too, so suck on that. Woke up late. My alarm said it was going off, but it wasn’t making any noise. Fantastic.
Cade decided to be constipated in the middle of the night, and alternated between grabbing his junk and saying, “IT HURTS ME!” to kicking me in the face.
Because my alarm didn’t go off, I got a late start to work, and in my new pad, I’m about 15 minutes farther from work anyway. I get halfway to the babysitter’s house, to only have some construction guy that is only a jerk because he gave me bad news tell me that the road was closed and I had to turn ALL THE WAY around. Did I mention I am already late? So I did a 7-point turn, and then sped off and I hope got dust in his bad-news bearing mouth.
Barely made it to work. My head hurts. My boobs hurt. I feel pukey. The first trimester of pregnancy is so horrible you can’t even be excited you’re knocked up because you’re too busy throwing up your vegan pizza and blueberry poptarts and complaining that when the wind changes your knockers hurt and you’re so tired you have the alertness and mental acuity of an infant.
I know all I do is complain. But when life hands me lemons, I write a blog, dangit. Okay?