Good after-midnightish: I have a rather bad bout of insomnia. This is completely unsurprising, however, considering that I spent the time between 8:30 this morning and 12:30 this afternoon attempting to sleep, only to be waked every 15-20 minutes by The Miscarriage and the copious amount of pain it is causing my internal organs. I think I have now basically gone through something v. similar to labor (without actually going through it, natch), as the pain came on quite suddenly, splitting my body into 2 lovely-feeling parts (a head and a pair feet) with a canyon of stabbing and "fuck, ow" and burning, burning and an attempt at doing some Lamaze-ish breathing until it subsided, about 3 minutes later (but really an eternity later) and I was able to get on with my life as a whole person, head, feet, and everything in between.
Enough with the run-on sentences, shall we? And on to something completely different!
A confession:
Due to unforeseen circumstances, I feel like a huge sellout right now. Earlier this evening, I, with no gun pointed at my head, typed "Britney Spears" into the search engine at the iTunes store. After perusing her discography, I selected an album to purchase: Greatest Hits: My Prerogative. I downloaded said album, loaded it onto my iPod, and went about doing some household chores before getting into bed (and we all know how well that part worked out). I made the bed to the (not v. well done) cover of the Bobby Brown classic (lyrics still known by heart from 1991, thankyouverymuch), flossed and brushed to Toxic, did the mouthwash thing to I'm A Slave 4 U, folded towels to Oops... I Did It Again, and skipped past Me Against The Music, Stronger, and Everytime (is that the one she did about breaking up with Justin?) to ...Baby One More Time, which I played twice in succession while putting away dishes and feeding the cat.
Being a notorious eye-roller wherever Britney is concerned, I'm trying to figure out where in the hell I learned all of the lyrics to her songs, at least the Top-10 stuff. Then it hit me: Zach. 1998ish: We were in Seattle, sitting on the beds at the Travelodge 2 blocks from the Space Needle when ...Baby One More Time came on the clock radio, and Zach turned that shit right on up, sang along, and blah blah blah. Since then, most of our friends have subjected me to at least 1 video of hers, played on repeat for a week or so until the synapses between blobs of gray matter in my head were pulsing with the beat, and we went on to something else. Why, pop culture, why? I have finally succumbed to the temptation and I'm afraid to even play the album over proper speakers, lest it be heard by the husband or someone else I know. So for now I'll continue listening in private via headphones and possibly in my car...
Off to eat something so I can take a little white pill that will hopefully help me go to sleep and not wake up with the dreaded body-tearing cramps tomorrow morning. Also? I kind of have this creepy feeling that someone is watching me through the living room window, so I have to hide in the dark while I'm eating, away from the glow of the monitor.
Ciao
Hey Dev, I hope the
crampingcontractions are over soon. Totally sucks, lady. OUCH. If you had been sitting in front of your window listening to the Britney (which you know I have a little of on my iPod, too, for which I also blame Zach) about 3 hours earlier, I tried to peek in your windows as I was flying by on my bicycle after attending the knitting group at Thomas Hammer (Thursdays at 7ish--I think you would like!). Maybe it was residual paranoia!Posted by: amy at October 6, 2006 8:49 AM