Good morning friends. It's been a while since I've been here, mindlessly typing veritable nothing into this space. This is the part when I say "I'm SO busy" -- which may or may not be true -- but the real fact is that I haven't been doing anything that's spectacularly interesting in terms of a blog post. Just being alive.

I've been working and sleeping and doing dishes and just trying to replace the flowers on my kitchen table on a weekly basis.

You know what else I've been doing? Falling down the black hole of funny animal GIF lists on Buzzfeed. Seriously, there's like a 100 million lists, and they're all hilarious. I just spend hours laughing at tiny animals that are basically drunk adults with fur and four legs. Here, check this one out. It's my favorite.

I'm sorry, and you're welcome. Your productive life is over, but you'll laugh, so you know, trade-offs.

***

Anyway, and totally unrelated, but recently my friends have started getting pregnant. On purpose.

It kind of puts me in this weird, cataclysmic place where suddenly I start remembering things. Like, well shoot, we all learned how to put on eye liner at the same time, and then we all decided we were old enough to use foul language at the same them, and then we all graduated from high school at the same time. And graduated from college at the same time. And got jobs at the same time. And got married at the same time.

Good God. Is this what we do now? We reproduce?

Let me start with this: I'm not pregnant. And I feel really comfortable marching to the beat of my own drum on this one. And walking the untrodden road -- and whatever other high school level poetry references I can throw in there.

That said, this whole thing starts about two weeks ago, when I had a crazy week and had a lot of things in my metaphorical backpack, all piling up and weighing me down. I was exhausted. Which, because I'm openly and honestly whiny, I said aloud on a number of occasions. Cue the girl next to me at work who squints here eyes and says, "are you pregnant?"

Skip ahead five days. I had a massive headache and no self control with the pain medication. If it's been five minutes and I don't feel better, I'm taking another one.

And then one after that. And another one.

I'm in the bathroom, puking ibuprofen, when Ryan stumbles in. "Are you pregnant?"

Sigh. "I would tell you," I say. "Like, probably even first."

Do I have to tell you that on a completely separate occasion, I started crying about nothing? I rode the struggle bus hard and it had my husband side-eyeing me like I'm a champion liar regarding the state of my womb and the status of its inhabitance.

But then I drank tons of booze on Friday. And because I'm equal parts moderately responsible and intelligent, I put those concerns to rest. The holiest thing in this stomach is Taco Bell and a 7/11 slushy.

***

Oh, and only slightly related, but remember that thing I said about self-control? And how I have none?  Right, so I gave up Facebook for Lent and then today I couldn't help myself. I logged in and binged so hard on creeping. It feels SO good to know the uncomfortable and surprisingly detailed things that people post on the internet again!

For what it's worth, I recognize the irony here. I just wrote about puking and directed your attention to my womb. And then did it again right there.

God, I love the internet.

Happy SUNDAY!