I'm so tired, and my eyes are stinging and dry from the unexpected crying jag that attacked me while I was watching a puppy video on You Tube earlier this afternoon.
I had words with God, stormed out of the house and bought sugar to make fudge.
It occurred to me today that I'm only partly to blame for the slightly ill-fitting clothing issue I've been having lately. At 11 weeks, 1 day - with two little sacs in there and a hard, growing tummy to go along with it - some of this just isn't my fault. I would have been wearing maternity clothes soon. Much sooner than I did with Thomas, by the look and feel of things.
So screw the currently ill-fitting clothes. I'm making fudge. I'll worry about the damage later.
God, I'm so sad.