The pregnancy is officially over half over – I passed the 21 week mark yesterday with barely a whimper. Nothing momentous happened, aside from, perhaps, my appointment with Mr.Q’s massage therapist [something I could get used to…].


As though to commemorate passing the bump-hump [Mr.Q’s 6am description for 1/2 way], my belly button has officially become half an outie. The top half is decidedly out, while the bottom half remains stoically indented – hanging onto some last vestige of normalcy pre-pregnancy shape.

I’m not convinced that the stand my navel has taken will hold much longer; there will, undoubtedly, be an inevitable stretch or inversion that will pointedly mark the end of an era.


It is, once again, an ungodly hour and I am up due to Mr.Q’s erratic schedule. The only only complaint that can be made about living on the west coast [other than falling off the political radar more often than not] is the east’s chronic insistence to hold meetings at times only convenient to them: 9am there is 6am here, people. That is wrong. And no, it is not justifiable punishment for living in a mild climate – that’s what the housing costs are for. That doesn’t explain the equally inflated cost of living in a few eastern provinces, but I’m remain in the dark over that…much like the dark outside, what with being up this early.


My version of specs were emailed to our contractor last night – I’ve likely completely destroyed any hope he had of accomplishing anything today. He’ll be way too busy laughing his ass off. Hopefully, we won’t need to make too many adjustments, but I have the feeling that there will need to be much clarification of my sad sad little line drawings in Word.

On a good day, my stick people are rather drunken and disproportionate…I hate to think what my “to scale” attempts are. The only saving grace: Mr.Q drew the basement outer dimensions and actually made it close to scale. What I’ve drawn in the room, though, is up to anyone’s guess… including the contractor’s.


That too! Okay, slightly over half.

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