Here’s to you man I believe to be living in my attic.

First, I would like to extend an apology to the creepy man I believe to be living in my attic. I blamed you for my missing Reese’s, when in fact, it was in my car. And I’m sure you’ll read this because when you do come out the attic, I’m sure you also use my laptop. Why wouldn’t you, considering it just sits on the arm of the couch all day and night turned on with no password protection. But I swear to god if my husband has to fix it because you put a shit ton of spyware and crap from all your nonsensical downloading, I will go up there and kill you.

So now, when I accidentally download something I probably shouldn’t have, I can blame the man I believe to be living in my attic. And Chris won’t be mad at me, instead he’ll be mad at him, because I specifically told him not to do that.

And I probably should have brought the Reese’s out of the car, but I didn’t think that far ahead, so there it sits, still in the cup holder of my car, in upper 80 degree weather. And probably will remain there until I remember it’s there later on tonight when my stomach feels like it’s eating all my other organs because I’ll probably have already eaten the entire bag on mini Reese’s my mom bought me today out of the kindness of her soul. She also bought me a cookie. :-) But as of right now, the thought of eating anything more is kind of making me feel super sick.

Ah the joys of pregnancy, constantly teetering on the thin line between starvation and oh-my-god-I-shouldn’t-have-eaten-that-entire-sandwich-now-I’m-going-to-puke.


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