Some days...

Some days just start off crummy. I walked outside, into heat that already felt oppressive at 8 a.m. Then I tripped and fell in the driveway. Phone went flying. Little flower hair clip flung out of my hair. Hands skinned and burning. Knee bloodied and bruised through my pants. It's a miracle of textile construction - for which I am perpetually grateful - that allows me to rip my skin but not my pants.

I sprawled on the ground, near tears like a kid on the playground, feeling a little childishly miffed that neither the landlady nor the two workmen on the property noticed the downed pregnant girl.

Then I got up, got in my car and drove to work. A few productive work calls went a long way to making me feel better and feel more grown up.

There's no question, by the way, that at this point my body has been taken over by something else. Places that usually feel...well, softer than I'd like...feel oddly firm, like an over-filled water balloon. And the boobs are just completely out of control.