The peanut butter didn’t help. Sleep has enlisted the help of my stomach in the war to keep me awake. I was up ALL night with the most intense gas pains I’ve ever had. I suffered in silence as long as I could but it all erupted in one loud outburst:

H: “Honey, are you ok?”

Me: “No! My stomach hurts and it’s too fucking hot in this fucking house!” (this was after I tried using the restroom but nearly melted in the heat)

H then tried rubbing my back while I moaned and writhed. Then he asked the stupidest thing I’d ever hear from him. “Does it really hurt that bad?”

Me: “No, I’m fucking faking it!” I didn’t feel bad for yelling at him until later. I appologized on the way in to work for keeping him up all night and yelling at him.

That was the worst of it then it passed into more muted waves of gaseous pain that hit every 30 minutes or so culminating into a relief filled trip to the bathroom around 4:45. Then for the first time that morning I got comfy and fell asleep.

And woke up an hour later to start my day.

Tell me what I need to do to make peace with Sleep! Do I need to start hosting anti-war rallies in my bedroom? Buy some PJ’s with little peace signs all over them? That’d actually be kinda cute.

Plus side of my morning: J was encouraged to get her butt moving by the promise of listening to The Beatles in the car. At one point I looked back to see her wearing the sweetest smile I’d seen that morning. I give her full credit for me not being a lot pissier this morning.


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