Sleighbells Ring. Are You Listening? Something is lost in the aesthetic here, on this strange and new blog, and it bugs me. But it's time to trade form for function. We'll see how it goes.

It's funny, it's like the only way I can write lately is in Facebook mode. "Stealthpunch is..." and then you fill in the blanks. So, Stealthpunch is waiting for a phone call, and she doesn't like waiting for phone calls, especially when she could be taking a shower and otherwise maximizing her time while the baby's sleeping. (That by the way was too long and would not fit in the Facebook box.) When professionally-professioned people say they'll call at a certain time (in this case, 11am) and still haven't called by now (11:19am), it makes me nuts. Soon the baby will be awake, I will still be unwashed, and I won't have the phonecall information I need. (11:22).

There were two things I should wrap up after mentioning them four months ago or whenever it was the last time I wrote: I am not pregnant and I don't have cancer. I don't think. The pregnancy thing you never know about because the schedule is -- do it, wait a few weeks, then period or no period. I am currently in the post-do-it part, so while I don't think I'm pregnant, you never truly know until the red river does or doesn't flow. And I got my neck lump checked and it isn't lymphoma or leukemia, but the doctor said, "You can't rule out cancer with a blood test, and it's too small for a fine needle aspiration, so you just have to watch it and see if it grows." So I guess i'll just wait and watch it and see if it becomes CANCER. I should start each appointment telling these doctors that I am a nutcase, and then maybe they'd not be so casual with their lighthearted maybe-death sentences.

(11:26) Bitches.

I have to learn to write more often, but less. So I will end here.


  ¶ 11:15 AM