Vent away, JZ. Wish I could drop by to distract and entertain.

((JZ))

Yeah, when I was laid up last week, the messy apartment made a everything that much worse for me.

JZ, love you, sweetie.

Sweetness, you get to vent.

What they said.

Also, you should have package soon. Ok. That won't solve everything, but it's something.

The sex dreams are nothing new -- they've been going on since I hit about 18 weeks, which according to a couple of the books I've read is totally typical. And up until two weeks ago, I was quite enjoying them. The horrible guilt is all brand spanking new and scientific: it's DOCTOR'S ORDERS, my goolie needs to be in a state of perfect quiet and stillness, and now I can't shut my sexy lizard brain off and it's going to kill the baby, the doctor said so.

And what kind of gassy nasty bitch whines at her husband about not folding his T-shirts when he has a book contract, an already-spent advance, and an iron-clad deadline hanging over his head (plus 50% custody of a high-energy child for whom he is now the sole caretaker during that 50%, on top of the bedbound bitch and the book contract)? I just feel like a completely shitty, useless hausfrau vampire.

So not shitty. So not useless. So not a bitch (in the lower-case sense). Promise.

JZ, don't you dare delete your completely justifiable vent. Sweetheart, you are so good at validating us, but sometimes you forget that it's valid for you to be frustrated and hurt, too.

{{{JZ}}} Vent away. We're here.

OMG! I wish I had Emily's camera that takes video. Toto is doing the CUTEST thing! He keeps walking up to the bed and trying to jump, realizing that he didn't run far enought, scooching back and trying again. Poor guy! Think I'm gonna have to go pick him up. But, damn is this cute!

Babe, you can't police the lizard brain.

Ugh, JZ -- I wish you were closer. I'd totally come over and talk to you, and make you cut out crap to make bulletin board stuff with me.

And maybe I coud have a stern talk with your goolie, and put that bitch on lockdown. I'd hunker between your knees, look that tart in the eye and issue some stern PG-13 warnings. I might even shake a finger at it!

I might even shake a finger at it!

Probably not wise. You're a bit of a sex bomb, and you know what her doctor said.

Now all y'all's goodness is making me cry. And I think I actually needed a good cry, so my brain can start over again all nice and clean and empty. Thank you. I would make out with all of you, except the doctor would probably disapprove.