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Has the fact that I feel like I have nothing to say stopped me from coming in here to post an entry? No, not at all.
Tired. Slept crappily last night. Have moved into the phase of pregnancy that involves strange, long, drawn out dreams. The kind that you wake yourself out of just to fall back to sleep and back into them again.
Yesterday was my day off, as Tuesdays usually are. Mom's in London until next week, so I had taken advantage of her absence to make lunch plans with the Artboy. I haven't seen him since I left the hospital, and I was really looking forward to our lunch. Of course, he canceled on me at the last minute, and I took the opportunity to clean my house instead. Probably a much better use of the time.
He and I had a misunderstanding about my reaction to his canceling out. Suffice it to say that it's really tough to convey sarcasm over email, and that a "Well, fine. Fuck you, then," can seem really, really angry if the person on the other end interprets it as such. In the end, it was fine, but the process was...well, it was silly, but not fun.
Anyway...
Flash forward to the wee, wee hours of the morning. I am having a dream that I meet the Artboy for lunch. We are in the gallery. We walk into his studio to look at a piece of art he's working on, and WHAM!--we start making out. Only--he steps away from me and says, "Sorry, I'm just feeling really disjointed and I wasn't even sure where I was for a minute." He then sprays himself in the face with some water.
I wake up.
Asleep again, I am back in his bedroom. He is behaving more and more oddly. I realize there is something really wrong with him. He collapses on his floor. I yell to the people in the gallery to call 911.
I wake up.
Asleep again. I'm in an ambulance. The Artboy is on a stretcher with an EMT monitoring his vitals. The other EMT in the back is asking me about the Artboy's drug history. I begin naming off the drugs I've seen him take since we met. "His pot smoking was almost daily for a while, though I don't know about lately. I've seen him on Acid, Mushrooms, twice on Coke. Beyond that, I don't know.
I wake up.
We're in the ER.. The medical staff whisks him off while I give his information to the desk staff. I tell them how to reach his dad at the garage, since I don't know where his mom is working on her summer vacation. They manage to reach him. I sit down in a hard plastic chair to wait for the arrival of Jack and Kathy, the Artboy's parents.
I wake up. It's around 5:30 am. I have half an hour before my alarm goes off. I am afraid to go to sleep again, not really wanting to know what happens next.
The detail was incredible. I can picture it all, still, even hours later. ANd I just COULDN'T get out of it.
Four more months of this? It's going to be a LONG summer.
On a lighter, more pleasant note, the Husband saw the baby moving around yesterday. I was laying on the bed, talking with him before he left for work, when Chip started poking around. The baby kicks now have enough strength behind them to move the belly around when they happen. The Husband was transfixed. He stood and stared, making a surprised noise every time it happened, for about five minutes, until I reminded him that he was going to miss his train.
Pretty cool.
Now, four more months of THAT I can take!
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