Pregnancy still sucks. Most days I feel like I have mono and just want to crawl into bed and sleep for the next decade. I haven't had horrible morning sickness like the last time, just an overall unsettled stomach and a general gagging sensation whenever I exert myself, like walking up a flight of stairs. Awesome. The Husband, convinced such fatigue is not natural, insisted I ask the doctor at my first appointment. The answer, as I suspected, was "welcome to the first trimester." I told Husband if he has any further problems with me sleeping all day, per medical advice, he can suck on it.
I'm working on winding up some stuff, and getting things in order so I can be more focused on the tasks at hand. I've also enlisted the help of Cora's godfather, who is currently unemployed, to do some secretarial work for me. There are just certain things about practicing law I don't like, and one of them is talking to the same fucking person fourteen times in one day. I need a barrier between me and the rest of the world, and that's what a good secretary is. If I ever get my ass in gear and get enough of a practice built to have secretarial support, I would totally hire him full time. We've always worked well together, and he has a gift for gab and bullshit that I often times cannot muster. Especially when the person is particularly annoying. I have one client that annoys the piss out of me. And I'm about at the point where I will have to say, "Look, I can't represent you, because talking to you makes me want to commit battery." I also tend to be angry when pregnant apparently, so that doesn't help my client management skills.
Anyway, I had my first OB appointment and ultrasound. All is good so far, and I absolutely love having real insurance and going to a clinic that is not in a public hospital. The care I got at our university's hospital was excellent, but being a public hospital, they aren't all that into customer service. Frankly, they don't give a shit that your appointment was three hours ago and you're still in the waiting room. It's not like you're gonna go anywhere else when you don't have insurance/are on Medicaid (or in my case, required to go there by crappy student health insurance). And I also got to sit in the waiting room with a population of women of which most of my DNA docket is now comprised. So, I'm glad to be sitting in the waiting room with a bunch of old ladies knitting, rather than white trash pillhead skanks complaining that it's none of the social worker's damn business what drugs she does. (Sure, Granny might be making meth in her basement while snorting her Oxycontin too, but at least she has the sense to STFU about it. And not be pregnant while doing it. Hell, with the old people I've encountered lately, it totally would not surprise me for Granny to be a drug lord. Anyway.)
So, that's what's up in general. Husband's birthday is this weekend, so we're having a party. Someone else is going to have to make sure his dumb ass doesn't wake up naked in the neighbor's yard the next day, because I will probably pussy out at like 10pm. Lame. Also lame is being sober. What's the quote? "I am disturbingly lucid!" Indeed.