I spent the weekend blathering like a fool. I was so nervous that everytime my fab American visitors were in the car with me and Meg, I freaked out and got upset about the driving, freaked out and got upset about the parking, or freaked out and cried about my personal inadequacies, both real and imagined.
Or just cried about nothing at all. Cause hey, why not? I need to shed some excess liquid and I'm already peeing every hour on the hour. Time for a new orifice, eh?
Oh, and about that "Eh". Apparently, I have a Canadian accent! The word again was a source of vast amusement on "Penis Tour 2007." Canada is also full of sexual references I never knew about. Like the TTC picture Julia took? Here, it means Toronto Transit Commission. We have subway cars and streetcars that are called Red Rockets. And until they brought it up I'd only ever thought about it once or twice. Same thing for all the orange pylon/cone references.
It was a good distraction anyway. If you will excuse me now, I have to go stress over whether these cramps are just gas, or something more terrifying.
Tomorrow at 9:30 am I find out what the hell, if anything, is growing in my uterus.
It better not be a puppy.