The Dude says "you're looking pregnant girl."
Hermann just laughs.
All I know is that the wowing gut construction that occurs while I am sleeping has negated my ability to roll over with any speed and caused a few noteworthy instances in which formerly navigable paths are now places I simply get stuck. Itsy seems to want someone to hold her foot and when I found myself balancing a book on her bum the other day things started to feel odd. I am however feeling genuinely good through the changes of every day although I attribute this to the fantasy in which there are at least a couple of weeks during which I can suck in movies, go to museums and feel socially normal? The reality of my reality vs. the condition of my (our) conditions remains to be seen.
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