I spent all morning in bed, unable to even think of doing anything but lie there. Reading a few pages of The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera) every now and then. Turning onto my other side, carefully contemplating the movement inside my abdomen as I did so. I spent all morning in bed, unable to dare to get up for anything but the toilet, twice.

I cautiously planned to slowly get up when the delicious lunch Bart made me was ready, to have a gentle hot shower subsequently and get ready to step outside the front door and replace the clutch of my bike.

I had lunch and showered and put half of the washing load in the dryer, and hung the other half out on our primitive, clumsy, bulky washing rack. When I got dressed it started raining. Very heavy, big, wet raindrops, millions at once falling on a single street tile. So I collapsed on the bed. Not until then did I notice how tired I still was, and am, and how devastating it was to have a shower. Why?

But still, I'm mockingly waiting till whoever it is who does the deciding around here finally decides to stop playing this game with my body. Honestly, I genuinely feel as if this is all just a stupid joke.

P.S. DAMNIT now I can't even add this bloody entry. I wish my gold membership hadn't run out. I wish I thought it was worth it to spend all my spare money on an extension. I wish it wasn't just the image hosting I'd buy one for... because frankly, I don't need the image hosting from diaryland anymore and I don't really want any of the other gold membership features... apart from not having these occasional add-entry-shut-downs but I don't think that's worth my thirty dollars. Sulk.

P.P.S. What?! I can't even view my buddy list!

P.P.P.S. A few minutes, it gracefully says, a few minutes! It's been over half an hour!

---

I feel so