Hello, ceiling, my old friend

I've read the New York Times online, even the boring bits down in the home and garden section about someone's excellent modern cabin getaway in upstate New York, where they're spending their down hours from their fabulous NYC job, no doubt stopping along the commute to do all manner of antiquing to source unique modern pieces to give their vacation pad that individual flair and make it an expression of their personal style.

I've done some internet searching trying to find the email addresses of friends I haven't corresponded with in way too long.

I've caught up on some select home improvement blogs.

I've even opened email junk mail to see if 40% off might entice me to go shopping, despite the fact that nothing, and I do mean nothing, will snap, zip or button over my rapidly expanding girth.

I guess it's time to start writing a blog post. What else does one do at 4 AM, when pregnancy induced insomnia strikes, the dog and husband are impressive equals in snoring decibels, and one is staring at the ceiling? Ah, I have it. Go to the kitchen and eat a banana muffin. See: rapidly expanding girth. More tomorrow night, no doubt.