Filed under: Pistachio
Did I mention before how I’ve been daydreaming about being on bedrest? No? That’s right, I didn’t because I didn’t actually want that, because it meant that something bad was going on.
Today the doctor asked me to quit working as soon as I could. While my blood pressure is not quite over the official line to “high”, it has risen rather dramatically since the beginning of the pregnancy. Couple that with the development of elephantine legs and sausage fingers and my history of severe pre-eclampsia, and we’d rather be safe than sorry. I am to cut back dramatically or preferably stop working all together and lay around with my feet up for the next several weeks.
The problem is that if I could afford to stop working, I would have by now, believe me.
Obviously, I also can’t afford to get serious complications for me or the baby, so we will figure something out. Hell, the savings from my Einstein’s Bagels lunch habit alone will probably cover the utility bills. And if I have to go on bedrest, it is better to do it before I am actually sick, of course.
I’ll cash in some retirement funds. After all, having two girls is likely to shorten my lifespan anyway.
