There are solutions to all the above problems. I am sitting here in a bathrobe that is far too warm for anything but arctic temperatures. Solution? Go shower and get dressed. In regular clothes.
Dave has prostitutes following him on Twitter. He finds this not as amusing as I do, and has blocked them, whereas I just think hey, isn't that what Twitter is for? To get a picture of the world at large (although internet-related things might be more skewed in the prostitute-direction than general reality. Kind of like Vegas)? But then, I may be being snarky because I hate Twitter. Solution? Stop bothering about other people's twittering, and go find something to do. Like maybe showering.
Roo is running out of space. She is either kicking at my lungs or punching at my cervix (the second one is especially startling, though I don't know why it would be, and while I'm glad she knows where the thing is (the nearest exit door is above your left eyebrow) it does actually hurt). Solution, baby girl? Come on out already!
Which brings us to the final problem, of Nikki being completely impatient and unwilling to do anything (including getting dressed, apparently) that does not involve going into labor, though labor is unlikely for quite some time. Solution? There is none. Only patience.
I am doomed.
I assume you were kidding about the regular clothes.
The Twitter thing is weird - I signed up to see something specific, and now I get all these random updates on who is following me, someone who has never once posted anything there.
I'll trade you some "hurry up!" for some "wait...stick around for a while" if it helps us both meet our goals.
Oh God, if you go into labor, it's just going to make my impatience that much worse. So yeah, I'll be sending plug-up-that-cervix vibes your way.
By regular clothes, I only meant those that are intended for people who aren't out in a blizzard.
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