Damnit.  Delle has not called.  Today was the doctor’s appointment.  What in the hell?  It’s been a day since I’ve talked to her.  What if she’s had the freakin baby and I didn’t know?  JesusGod, and of course, EVERYONE is asking me if she’s had the baby and all I know to say is “Possibly, but I don’t know”.. and what kind of friend does that make me out to be?  A LOUSY ONE, that’s what kind of friend.  And I know that she’s probably screening her calls because she just gets annoyed when I call because SOMEHOW the magic of my cell phone vibes MAGICALLY send her into a contraction so that every time she answers, she sounds as if she’s in the middle of pushing a watermelon through a hole the size of a peach, and she’s ANGRY.  And I don’t blame her for not answering, because how annoying is it to say (in the middle of ANOTHER Sarah-inspired contraction), “Nothing’s changed; no baby, and yes, it still hurts.”?  It probably sucks, so I wouldn’t answer the phone either.  And she swears she’ll call when something DOES happen, but let’s face it, as soon as all of the mucus and water and bloody-who-knows-what starts coming at a rapid pace, who really wants to reach out and touch someone?  Right, no one wants to do that.  So I’ll sit here at work, typing a usefully ignorant piece of crap post while she’s grunting and pushing and bringing my nephew into this world and I’ll have no clue. (which is kind of okay, cause something tells me that if I actually witnessed the birth, i would embrace cellibacy with a quickness.) So here I am, typing, wondering.. hoping..

Screw it.  I’m calling her.

Ringing

Damnit, she’s gonna send me to voicemail again.

Ringing

Mother of PEARL!  WOULD YOU JUST ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE?!

RINGING

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S HAPPENING!!!

“Hey, I’m having my cervix checked.  Can I call you back?”

Um.. eww.. you don’t have to tell me EVERYTHING, you know.

So, the only thing I really have worthy to say today is: I am wearing fake hair.

Yep, that’s really it.

Bryan and I had an evening.  At home.  Together.  And we did nothing.  We unpacked nothing, we straightened nothing, we cleaned nothing.. we just sat.  It was AWESOME.  We went and had some fresh spicy food at Thai Garden, then we went home, found spots on the couch, and did nothing.

We did, however, start a tickle fight in bed that resulted in an injury.  It all began when I was bending over to pick something up off the floor and Bryan told me to keep shakin’ that thang.  I told him I wasn’t shaking it, that’s just what happens when I move.  Then the tickling began.  Somehow, I managed to make him slam his eye socket into my shoulder, and he was down for the count.

I haven’t seen him today (it’s Thursday, so he was out the door before I was up), but I kinda hope he has a black eye, for no other reason than he’d HAVE to say that I gave it to him.  And I would be the ultimate badass: the woman who beats her man.

I have Seussical rehearsal tonight for the first time in over a week.  And honestly, I don’t wanna go.  It’ll be fun once I get there, but damn.. staying home last night has really spoiled me.

No baby yet, but I haven’t talked to her today.

And that’s all, from my end of the modem.