A Prognostication

My computer screen has bought the farm. Therefore, I'm out of commission for a while. Since my hard drive works but can't see where my cursor is going, I could just hit buttons and hope that my Jedi Master skills are good enough to know whether I'm posting jibberish or not, but I fear I am less Obi Wan/Alec Guinness and more cheesy Annakin Skywalker/Christian what's-his-butt, and therefore would only post what amounts to "sklhjgjfv gjikloikgl." Since I don't know how long my computer will be out of commission (it's hard to rationalize the expense of fixing it when we're hemmorhaging money on having our house painted and trying to figure out from under which rock to draw the money for hospital bills), I will give you my best guestimate as to my future:

September 20th: The porch having been lifted successfully, and the paint mostly dry, our kindly contractor/friend discovers that our house is built on a bog and will sink out of sight by next February. October 4th: Extremely tired of listening to me bitch about what a pain in the ass hauling a watermelon around is, my husband decides that he really will going into genetic research to develop the human/marsupial hybrid. October 23rd: Halloween just around the corner, I decide that this year I will go as a squash. November 10-15th-ish: Baby shower/Last Gasp party for the bun's imminent arrival. Our well-meaning but unparental friends all buy us bottles of booze in lieu of diapers. Thanksgiving: the entire family must fight me to keep the turkey available to everyone. A pinky is lost in the scuffle. Early December: "Evil Wife" moves into the house, just about the time that friends and relatives begin to arrive to see the couple childless for the last time. Many old friends are lost. Christmas: Desperate, the husband begins an in-house revue/entertainment campaign, desperately trying to keep the "bitterest scowl in the West" at bay and in the holster. I only move from the couch to the bed to the refrigerator, acting more sharklike everyday. A very fat shark. January: Our lives change. Dramatically. A new human breaches the surface of the world, takes a breath, looks around, and the "Evil Wife" gets replaced by "Tired, Sappy Mother." There is, if not peace in the world, momentary peace in our house. Until we realize that there is no return policy on poopy diapers.