So, after a gray day at home, listening to Sun Kil Moon and crying my eyes out, the sun is back out today and I’m coming back at the universe with a kind of energy I couldn’t find, yesterday. Pregnancy hormones? Meh, whatever. I’ve done this all my life—taken entire days (sometimes entire weeks) to hole up and grieve various things, to really feel and examine the quality of what’s changing in my life, and what’s staying the same. Being pregnant has been disconcerting, and distracting, but I haven’t felt the “mood swings” that are supposed to come with it. But really, “mood swings”—if that means kind of dramatic emotional highs and lows—have always been a pretty regular part of my life, so I’m kind of surprised, after my seriously good cry, yesterday, that it’s taken me this long to have one. I definitely needed that.

I completely enjoy listing things I want to do, in the morning, even though I hardly ever make it through to-do lists, these days. After taking nary a nap in my first trimester, when you’re supposed to want to do that all the time, I’ve started taking an average of three naps a week, here in the third. Naps of course aren’t respectable enough to make it onto a to-do list, so I tend to not do something on the list and take a nap instead. I don’t feel bad about it, but the frequency of that does give me pause, as I’m about to list some things I want to do today.

As I was pausing between last paragraph and this one, I had this feeling like I could go to sleep.

Anyways, today I am for sure researching health insurance. Our BlueCross BlueShield premium just went up almost $100, which is horrifying, and will have to (if we keep the plan) go up again when we have this baby, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I want to kill somebody. I want to blame the fat cats at the top of the insurance high rise, who have three vacation “homes” and whose kids drive Hummers, but Marshall reminded me that this is, in fact, a complex clusterfuck. I have a relation who is all the time slamming Obama & the ACA on social media, but that seems so reductionist to me because I happen to know people that it’s helped, and I think it is/was a perfectly good attempt to fix the problems that MOST CERTAINLY pre-dated it. However, Marshall says that the insurers can’t be totally to blame, and I’m sure he’s right. So who? Whose house may I break into in the middle of the night and slash all their cushions with a knife? Whose dog may I kidnap and release in the woods 500 miles away? Whose yard may I sow with salt? I’ll find out.

Speaking of which, does anyone have an insurance plan they want to plug? If you have a baby / small child, is it necessary to have a smallish deductible, or can you get away with a catastrophic plan? How often do kids really develop diseases / break limbs?

The other thing I’m doing today: putting on all the clothes I own and walking three-quarters of a mile to the coffee shop, where I will probably leave my coat on. It’s unseasonably cold, here in East Tennessee. We had our first real dusting of snow last night, and that usually doesn’t happen till—I heard someone say, can’t quite remember if it’s true or not—Christmas-ish. The snow, the cold, the coats—these are usually post-Thanksgiving, at any rate, and it’s both uncomfortably cold (we’re moving in a few days and therefore are not sealing our old, leaky windows with window plastic) and bracingly festive. For instance, we listened to some Christmas music a couple nights ago, and I’m getting a raging sweet tooth, which isn’t exclusively a holiday thing, but it is definitely a holiday thing. (At the coffee shop, I will feel festive, and find out how to intelligently discuss the healthcare system & our options, and gather information for Marshall to tabulate in a spreadsheet. I know, you wish you were here.)

Marshall and I had a serious altercation on Sunday about whether we should leave two cake pans and the cake stand or go ahead and move them to the new house. I contended that I was planning to make a pumpkin layer cake with raspberry filling this week, and … I really think today might be the day. I won, the pans are still here, and I’ll feel kinda dumb if I don’t make one, now, too.

I’m really, really big, now. My butt is getting dwarfed by my midsection, which is nice, but it’s just shocking how large I am. Things really accelerate as far as size in the last six weeks. Make a comment if you want to see a photo, friends and relations who are far away. I don’t want to overburden the internet with photos of pregnant people.

I love it when a pregnant person makes hilarious comments about her size & shape, using words like “lumbering,” “hulking,” “ponderous” and “ungainly.” I’m planning on doing that again, on this blog, maybe in another week or something. Not today, since I’d rather feel a little less humorous and little more small. So I’m going to have a lite lunch, elegantly drape myself with small clothings, and wend my way—in a small and lite manner—to the coffee shop, where I will totally fit on the barstool, and not be in anyone’s way, and not have to uncomfortably hunch at the bar in order to be close enough to the laptop to read the screen while not crushing any organs, or internal babies.

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