I'm 26 weeks and five days pregnant and anyone who's been pregnant for that long can probably figure out what I did this morning to celebrate: chugged down a bunch of glucose water for my gestational diabetes test. Everyone complains about the taste of the drink but really, if you slug it all the way down the back of your throat you can hardly taste it. It's like mostly flat Fanta lemon-lime, but without the annoying theme song (there, now scores of people around the internet have that song in their head. You're welcome).

Guess it's been a while since I've been artificially stimulated because mere minutes after drinking the sugar water I was buzzin' like a bumblebee. No wonder hummingbirds flap their wings so fast — they survive on this stuff. I got very silly very quickly and was soon beating the rhythm to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on my thighs while I waited for the doctor to see me.

I'll get my results tomorrow, maybe Tuesday because of the three-day weekend. Came home and went straight for the protein, gobbled down a three-egg omelette with ham, cheese, and red peppers in about the time it takes to drum the first two lines of “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”, and washed it down with a big glass of milk. Oh, and some toast with peanut butter — might as well have a little hair o' the dog, I figure, in hopes it'll keep me from crashing like a meth-head on the highway.