This morning I took a pregnancy test.

I'm not scheduled to start for at least 5 more days, but I feel fat and the girls are painfully swollen and I thought, Ha! Wouldn't that be ironic?

It was negative.



So that's good news, I guess. Even though, of course, I have made up the conversation with Gatsby at least three times. "Are you sitting down..?" or "Ha, so are you ready for the funny part? Right? I'm pregnant. No, really. That's hilarious, right?"

And it's not very likely that I'm pregnant at all. I've just put on 5-10# from the stupid concert series and the end of the stupid concert series and stupid Gatsby leaving and throwing stupid parties and generally not caring about myself at all. I guess throwing my back out didn't help, but I did finally see the Chiropractor yesterday and he put everything back in order and it's amazing because today my back is Completely Normal. One might argue it was on its way back to completely normal anyway, as the pain was subsiding day by day - but I like to thank my chiropractor.



And this morning I made a deal with myself that I would make my bed every morning. And I would dedicate one day to cleaning each room of my house. That way, when I got overwhelmed or distracted from one room to the next... well, I could say, "No, the living room isn't until Tuesday." I think the living room will be Sunday, actually.

Although it feels very hard to clean a room that's still not finished. And the living room isn't, with its half-installed crown moulding and weird closets with amateur mudding. It all begins to get very overwhelming, and then some days I decide I want a dishwasher so I take all the doors off the cabinets and measure and...

At least I put the doors back on the same day. There have definitely been periods of my life where I would have just stacked the cabinet doors against each other away from the refrigerator and the sink and the trash can and I wouldn't have done anything about it for weeks.


So this is all to say I have been very tired lately. Very tired. Sleeping 12 hours a night and having a hard time getting up. Last night I dreamt I drank from an antique champagne bowl my brother bought only to discover the glass was breaking out of the decorative pattern, and then it was too late when I realized it had finishing nails in it and I now had finishing nails stuck in my throat. And then I got furious at him for leaving the antique flatware (that was glass, maybe?) in the dishwasher with dishcloths over it because clearly it would mold or rust or something, and then I realized halfway through yelling at him that he had set the dishwasher to "soak" them and I was yelling for no reason. And then I just started bawling inconsolably.

Maybe I shouldn't mix gin with chocolate martinis and four-cheese fries.