I haven't the energy for a clever title today, kiddos. I am Tired, with the capital "T" denoting the specialness and profundity of my Tiredness as opposed to the bourgeois, pedestrian tiredness the rest of the unwashed masses experience. Har de har har. I am wrapping up rehearsing Stage Door, which goes up tonight. I will be done with that on Saturday, and then I can go back to the lovely 10 odd hours of sleep a night that my body seems to be demanding. For this week, however, it's been work all day, run home for a bite to eat, and rehearse all night. Wash, rinse, repeat. I am having a really good time though- so nice to be rehearsing again, even if only for a 2-nighter.
Anywho, add to the lack of sleep the fact that my dogs decided inexplicably to get into a bad scrap (or maybe 'explicably', since there was a piece of chicken skin involved) that left Emmy with a weird limp last night- I don't know if this was the result of all 11 pounds of Percy's might knocking her ass over tea kettle, or a mistimed attempt of hers to jump up on the bed to get away from him (really, their rare little fights involve no biting, just a lot of noise and knocking into one another). She had no bite marks or injuries I could feel- I was up and down her leg pulling and pinching with no sign of pain, but she was limping and not her jovial self all night. She slept in bed with us and I was up about 4 times to check on her, poor puggy, and this morning called the vet to make an appointment to get her checked out. Literally as I was on the phone, she decided to put weight on her leg, eat all her food from the previous night, and sniff around for an errant piece of the aforementioned chicken. Vet said to give it a day before bringing her in. Arghh. Freakin' dogs.
BUT- me and Gav have tommorow off together (until I have to go to call) so I plan on sleeping in and having brunch and all the things that refuel me till the cows come home, followed by a Sunday of the same.
That's all. Baby is doing great, wigglin and kicking and being a growing fetus-child. I lerv her, you guys. I really, really do. Sometimes I swear she knows when I need a little pick me up, and gives me a kick in the belly so I know she's there. So really, I have nothing to complain about. Tell me to shut up. Ok, shutting up. Boo.
PS: I ought to post a belly pic soon- I think it's bigger, but in a weird way, like it's dropping down lower or something. Probably since I am not Christmas eating anymore, I'm not packing on poundage like last month. Good times.