Bank owned.

The things that disturbed me today. Get ready it could be a long one.

There is this wonderful bakery called sweetness and every so often in the mornings Anna and I go and get treats. I am always excited about the prospect of eating a fat Albert. It is a super yummy buttery flaky pastry shell in the shape of a muffin fulled with lemony creamy goodness and finished off with with a light dusting of crack to keep you addicted. Well this morning, no crack. I had to settle for Stromboli and cookie.

The baker has no idea of how dangerous it is to get people hooked then run out of product. She promised to deliver the goods tomorrow.

Who determines how to describe food on packaging? Who's hot meter do they use. The label on my chili relleno said mild. Liars. Thanks for the f*&king heart burn.

Hiccups in my butt. I will spare you the details, but just know growing a baby is not glamorous. They get hiccups, ALOT. And there heads are near well, your butt.

Having to pee when you don't really need to pee. How unfulfilling it is to get up in the middle of the night, which incidentally is not easy right now, to pee like 6 ounces.

Pineapples for ankles. Why can't the fluid collect in my boobs, making them perky and firm. That would be much better.

That internationally Oregonians must be viewed as freaks and crazies. The pregnant man, Springfield shootings, and now the shootings at the Zone. That just makes me sad. I will show some restrain and say nothing more. About that.

My husband mistaking my kind requests to do things as optional. They are direct command covered with nice words. Perhaps I will have to review this with him.

My midwife apparently hates me. I feel totally sold out. I would have expected a man ob/gyn to do what she did. As like a show of solidarity. But not a woman. I'm supposed to have sex every day from now until we deliver.
What the hell sort of punishment is that?
Did he pay her?
Can I do it alone?
I think I may have to file a complaint about that one. And page her relentlessly when she is on call at night and I am having post coital contractions. Paybacks baby.

Bank owned. A sign I am seeing more and more on houses for sale. How sad. But in the end aren't we all bank owned? Disappointed in the fact that we too are bank owned.
How to stop the relentless pursuit of stuff, consumption and obligation?