You know the feeling of getting a song trapped inside your head, and you can’t get it out? It bounces around your temporal lobe like a caged animal, yearning to be set free.  For the past ten hours or so, the Beastie Boys have been scratching and clawing at my brain, screaming, “NO…SLEEP…’TILL BROOKLYN!”

No, I’m not going to Brooklyn. I just haven’t slept much in the past couple of nights. At all. Between the cold I seem to have picked up, the molten lava in my esophagus that won’t let me lie in any position other than on my back, Madeline’s kicking, and the incessant worrying that usually keeps me awake, I feel pretty darned zombie-like right now.  Maybe a nap is in order this afternoon.

On a happier note, I went to my 24-week appointment this morning and everything is perfect! Little Madeline has a strong heartbeat and everything seems to be progressing in a very healthy way for both of us.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear a couch and a fleece nap blanket calling my name.

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