*yawn*

I was at the hospital at 7am this morning, and spent the next hour with monitors strapped to my (big, fat*) belly. The weebee hadn't moved for a whole day, after being uncharactaristically active two nights before. I woke up (translation: was woken up AFRUKKINGAIN by my neighbour reversing up and down the driveway (read: right outside my bedroom window) in his motorised wheelchair (*beepbeepbeep*) at fucking dawn. DAWN. Aargh. He does this all the time too, and my other neighbour? Is the one with the dog that barks All. The. Time, including the wee hours of the morning, and including this morning. I live in hell, I truly do) and tried everything to wake the weebs and, nothing. I was really calm too, thinking that maybe the weebs had got really tangled up, what with all the activity from the other day, and because I didn't panic, I acted on it and got it all checked out. Everything is fine, by the way, and the baby kicked up a storm again, but of course it waited until I was in the hospital, hooked up to machines and surrounded by an attentive audience to do it.

Apparently my kid is already a comedian.

*me, circa sometime last night and somewhere between 36 and 37 weeks: