I almost rammed an old woman with my grocery cart yesterday. Instead, I told her, “Move before I puke!” I did not apologize for being rude. After all, I had said, “Excuse me,” twice, politely begging her and her gang of old biddies to clear my escape path around the seafood counter of my local Publix. I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and felt the gag welling up from my stomach. Old Mother Hubbard had to move her ass or suffer the consequences.
Yes, my rabbit is dead. I am three months along. And so far, pregnancy hasn’t been pretty. Continue reading