Happy Thursday

I just went to irs.gov and used their handy-dandy "estimated withholding calculator." According to The Man's calculations, we can expect a nice little $1,100 refund come January. Suh-weet. Of course, that will be going into the Money Moosebaby Sucks Us Dry fund, so it's not like we'll be getting any hookers and blow. Damn. But it's better than a swift kick in the ass. And it means we can probably continue paying our bills while I'm funding my own maternity leave. Oh, happy day.

Happier day still, my fantastic husband has offered to treat me to Indian buffet for lunch. I just hope I don't yak it all over my office when I get back to work. I can only imagine what the smell of regurgitated curry and tikka masala would do for my already-nauseous state. Mmm, mmm, good. (Yeah, the actual puking started this morning. I have a tendency to barf in the morning because of my sinus drainage (yum!), but this wasn't sinus related. It was just straight up "gee I don't feel so well oh shit here comes the bile." Good times.)

And even better, things appear to be settling down on the Bob front. As always, every major upheaval in his life is followed by 2-3 weeks of what we've dubbed "Bob-lems." But the last few days, he's been back to his old self. Even last night, after I picked him up. He was annoying as shit (as all nearly-6-year-old boys are), but he wasn't evil. I just wish he'd get off this gingerbread man kick. They did a reading unit on the gingerbread man story shortly after school started, and ever since, I think Bob has checked out every book on every variation of that fucking story the school library has to offer. Tuesday night involved a gingerbread baby, but it was still the same fucking story, other than the addition of a clever eastern-European lad who built a gingerbread house to capture the errant doughboy while the stupid adults and farm animals chased him like imbeciles. I'm sure he'll get over this obsession just in time for Christmas and the onslaught of a gingerbread army, at which point I'll have to resume reading the same goddamn book every night. Huzzah.

Saturday, I'm driving to a town an hour and a half away to meet someone selling maternity clothes. She put an ad on craig's list, and her stuff looked damn decent for the price, so I figured it was worth a road trip. I admit, with all the buzz around here, I thought twice about driving to BFE to buy fatty clothes from a stranger. But if this chick intends to cut out Moosebaby, she's going to be pretty disappointed when she sees me. Besides, we're meeting in a Walgreens parking lot. If you plan to murder someone in a college town, the Walgreens parking lot is probably not the best place to do it. And one of the items she's getting rid of is a barely-used maternity black wool peacoat from Motherhood (retail $60). I'm willing to risk murder for that score.

And tomorrow's payday. Sweet, sweet payday. I'm going grocery shopping, bitches.