Dry, dry air

My new humidifier is gurgling next to me on the nightstand. Doing everything I can to not spend the winter stuffy and sick. I woke up at 6, took some sudifed, then slept until noon. It was a lazy day, which wasn’t the plan, but neither of our teams played today and I knew he would be playing video games from dawn to dusk. I packed my laptop, planning to go to Starbucks for some coffee and study time, then maybe a movie. I forgot it was Sunday, not a weekday. Also, shopping season. And coffee weather.

So I got my coffee, stopped at CVS, and came back for a day filled with a little bit of study time, and a lot of movie watching. They are movies Chris would watch, but not excitedly. Movie where no explosions happen. No car chases. Movies about dysfunction, people breaking up, making up, making babies, drinking, fighting, moving on, coming back. Life. Every month now I wonder, as I sit here in bed, in the quiet late night, if I’m alone. Or if there is another little person about to be alive inside of me. I’ve felt that before. It may be a miracle and all of that, but it’s freaking bizarre. I can’t imagine it gets any less so once it starts moving, kicking, and you are getting your ass kicked by the thing that lives inside you.

Story of my life. But this is a whole new ballgame, I just can’t imagine it’s all very fun. What possesses someone to want to deal with poop, no sleep, then more poop, and still no sleep, maybe ever again. I can’t explain it, and I really don’t feel I need to. Chris isn’t all about it, he can go either way. But I think about it all the time. What if? And you just don’t know. You just wait, with a sore throat and gurgling humidifier. Hungry, too lazy to go make myself soup. Thinking instead of feeding the cats and going to sleep.

Someone told me once that you just can’t think too much about it. You’ll talk yourself out of it every time. You just have to do it. See what happens.