Two things are certain IF I attend your baby shower:

1. I will drink. I will call ahead and subtly inquire if there will be alcohol. If there won’t be, I’ll bring my own.

2. Your kitchen will be spotless. The drunk lady hiding from the baby talk will make herself useful.

I’m heading to my friend’s baby shower. I originally replied “maybe” because I didn’t know if I’d still be in town, but I am. I should have just made something up, but I was off my game when it came up the other night.

I’m late for the shower and I’m cranky.

I’m mad at the frozen northern tundra for not being more exciting and having lots of activities for me to pretend to be attending instead of this shower

I’m cranky at Honey Bee for not having his schedule such that I had an excuse to be out of here. I’m also missing him terribly and so sick of  spending this much time apart (especially around holidays)

I’m annoyed at my friends for not seeing through my vague RSVP and guessing that I might not want to come

I’m mad at my father for the little life lessons he won’t shut the fuck up about (not necessarily shower related, but I thought I’d throw it in there)

I’m mad at my miscarriage. Miscarriage, I HATE you

I’m pissed at my ovaries.

Mostly I’m disappointed at myself for not just saying no to the invite and taking care of  myself for once instead of worrying about what everyone will think

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