Funny pregnant stuff

So we don't have a bathroom upstairs. Three bedrooms upstairs but no loo. Apparently in 1896 they were still using outhouses. And no one who's lived in this house since has had the pleasure of adding a loo upstairs. Oh joy. And I'm not a good sleeper ... if I had to go all the way downstairs, pee and then go back upstairs, I would surely not go back to sleep again. And I pee at least once in the night, every night, as it is. But now that I'm preggers, my bladder is on overdrive. It's at least twice a night. So I have this plastic pitcher that I keep in our room. And yes, I use it as a chamber pot. I wash it every morning. (It's very endearing that Mark is trying so hard to help around the house since I'm feeling so poorly, but he never, EVER touches the pee pitcher.) I brought two pitchers from NC to London: one for iced tea and one for lemonade. Since they have neither here, why not sacrifice one? It's pretty gross. But it's what you've got to do when your only bathroom is basically still in the backyard -- sorry, I mean "back garden."

Another piece of information that is more than anyone would care to know is that my Black Friend is back. When I was about 5 months pregnant the first time, I noticed this long, black hair -- maybe 3 or 4 inches long -- hanging from underneath my enormous left breast. How I managed to not see it growing in length for all that time is beyond me. But nevertheless, I woke up one morning and there it was. I blamed it on the hormones. So just to see how things were going with my pregnantly-affected body, I check on my Black Friend the other day and sure enough, we're almost up to an inch and I'm only 8 weeks preggers.

"Glory be; the funk's on me/ Keep that funk alive ..."