It's 10:38 p.m. and I just got home from work
And this is early.
For the short-term future, I will be living at work or, on a very few precious days, in our basement-cum-office, which is spiced with the rich aroma of mysterious allergens.
The project we are working on has gotten out of control, the timeline grievously compressed. We are, essentially, frantic.
I am still feeling quite foul, but am clinging to the rumor that the nausea and exhaustion should let up soon--I'll be 15 weeks tomorrow, so it's about damned time. And I'm jonesing for my bi-weekly ultrasound, which is now quadra-weekly, if such a thing exists. There should be some sort of methadone for ultrasound junkies. Am considering a home doppler rental, if I can get the time to reserach one. Unless you women of insight have some tips for me, maybe?
I have been speed-reading Bloglines in hopes of keeping up, but I seem to get farther and farther behind each day. And it's killing me. Guess I need some blog-withdrawal methadone, too.