What? Did I kick a puppy or something?

I know I stood on a dog at about midnight, but she's pretty well used to that, and seriously, if you're going to sleep next to your bed instead of in it, right by where I stick my feet when I get up for my half-asleep midnight loo dash, there is going to be some carnage.

Anyway, firstly, it took me an hour and a half to get to work this morning. An hour and a half! I'm 9 weeks pregnant for heaven sake! I can't go an hour without peeing let alone an hour and a half. There should be a pregnant woman lane on the motorway. Or, we should at least be able to use the bus lane in case of bladder related emergencies. Honestly. I honestly thought I was going to pop.

Then, then I get a phone call in the middle of the day to confirm my beauty appointment for Saturday, but to say that my beloved therapist is leaving on Thursday. Leaving! She's leaving me! Now is not a good time to be leaving me! How on earth am I going to find another beauty therapist who will put up with me swearing my way through a bikini wax and leaping off the bed to hide every time she comes at me with said wax?

And since we're here, Harold the Clown, it is not safe to try and enter the motorway doing 45km per hour when the rest of the blimmin traffic that you're trying to amalgamate with is doing 100km per hour especially when I'm stuck behind you on the on ramp and therefore bound to do the same the same stupid speed and try and avoid getting nailed by the various enormous four wheel drives that Aucklanders seem to love to drive even though they only leave the road in them to drive up their driveways. There is a reason, Harold the Clown, that the 100km per hour speed limit is set right back at the beginning of the on ramp and there are stupid motorway control lights to make sure that you can reach an appropriate speed before hitting the motorway proper. You .... Clown. Also, your sign writing is crap.

OK. I think I'm done. Hormonal rage over and out.

(Oh, but full credit to me for being a genius and realising as I was heading home that I had to drive straight past a Diagnostic Medlab to get on the motorway, and for taking the barely-detour(instead of driving into Manurewa when I got home and wasting all that lovely expensive petrol), arriving right as Medlab had a dead patch, therefore managing to get in, have half my life force drained out of me (No. 9 related blood tests for no idea what), and be back on the road again in 10 minutes flat.)