Oh, how the great have fallen!

Is insomnia genetic? If so, I blame my father, Stan, for my condition. Of course, Stan’s condition is probably not due to an overwhelming necessity to pee every two hours. And he probably doesn’t obsess about it to the point that on his way back from Relief, he’s already thinking about the next round. Rather, I should probably blame my latest sleep problems (this has been going on for years) on pregnancy. Sadly enough, it only gets worse. I don’t even have a baby bouncing on my bladder yet. And those blasted doctors want me to drink ONE GALLON of water every day? Why? So Baby can practice backstrokes in the womb?

I used to be the Queen of Bladder Control. Or rather, “The Camel of the Pee World” (as my friend Dave christened me during a backpacking trip through Yosemite a few years ago when I rarely had to stop for potty breaks). Oh, if he could see how much the Great Pee Camel is peeing now.

Is there a solution, a plug, a pill I can take? Perhaps we can all learn from Haddie’s resolution: a diaper. But a big one. The kind that would only fit Sumo wrestlers and pregnant ladies. I mean, if Haddie can blissfully sleep away the night soaked in her own urine, why can’t I? Though I just don’t know if their “thong” look is in….

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