june 13, 2003.

Fun fact: if Little Spider & Mr. Shorleave hadn't split in winter of 1996, they'd've been dating for 12 years and married for 5 years today.

Also, today is Pixie Stix's birthday! She'll be older than me for the next two months before I catch up.

Also, tomorrow is the 6th (dating) anniversary of the Boy & myself. Yay! Yay upgraded boyfriend-now-husband! Yay baby-to-be!

Yay!

This of course means that tomorrow is my 6 year anniversary of keeping this diary. Apparently that's the sugar and sweet anniversary. Hmm. I feel a new theme coming on...

The crezziness with our downstairs neighbour has begun right on schedule. She's been playing the radio really loud lately, as well as running around and slamming doors from time to time; whenever the Boy goes down to speak to her about these matters, she pretends that she's not home. Maddening.

Yesterday, as I was coming up the stairs, she popped out of her doorway like an evil djinni, complaining that we were creating "bad air" that was making her sick. When I asked her what she meant by bad air, she complained that we had the windows open too much and the Boy was smoking too much during the day. I responded that the heaters have been pumping out heat nearly every day this month, and it's the only way for us to be comfortable in our apartment since there's almost no air circulation and the thermostat's in her apartment. As to the smoking, I told her flatly that we hadn't smoked since I found out I was pregnant three months ago. That stopped her cold. She made a final complaint about the Boy "banging on the pipes" in the morning (later I discovered that he committed the heinous crime of doing the dishes. Sweet Boy.) and I escaped.

The Boy was livid. We knew this would happen; we saw her fabricate stories about the people between us and we knew that we'd be next. Still, it's unpleasant to say the least. I suggested that we call her father (the landlord) and discuss our recent complaints, but we're coming to believe it won't do any good. The Boy realized in a bolt of lightning that this is why he never made us sign a lease.

I dread the thought of finding a new apartment for 6 months. We can't move in with my parents ahead of schedule, not if I want to have my baby at home. They live too far away from the midwives' base of operations. What kind of place would rent to a couple for six months? I dread the answer.

Woke up at 4:30 this morning. Shades of my first week in September, when I was too anxious and depressed to sleep through the night. This time I'm a victim of my own fatigue; for the last week or so, I've been going to bed at 7 p.m. on average and waking early to mark frantically. Last night I was sleeping by 8 p.m., but tried to sleep to 6. No go. Energetic dreams, restless body. Even thinking about the bobble-headed Sprout-to-be wasn't comforting. (Then again, there's probably too much fear there for upcoming mommyhood to be an effective seditive.)

Oh well. Time to get on with my day.

Booty Call: Day 98 - Length: 12 cm crown to rump (14 cm or 5 1/2 inches head to toes). Weight: about 3 ounces.