Hey, Miss J!

I’m embarrassed to admit this… but I was so confused when I looked at my medication boxes today. I forgot that June only had 30 days and for some reason my brain said 31.

My grandma always told me: “30 days has September, April, June and November. All the rest have 31 – except February which sometimes has 29.”

Thanks grandma.

Ugh. That’s a simple fact that shouldn’t ever be forgotten. To be fair though, I have been distracted the last few days. I’ve had to do dishes and prep two meals for the next day.

Which translates into a lot of clean-ups. Thankfully, my kitchen hasn’t been a “gross grody mess” in quite a while. Still… my counters do need a good scrub.

I was planning on making sugar cookies, but I have my doubts about these eggs. I boiled three and one of them was gooey after I opened the shell… and it was squishy on one side. I take this to mean that I need to discard these eggs. From now on, I’ll buy eggs at a location that has them by the dozen. Or half dozen.

I barely eat eggs at all now.

That means I’m wasting money by buying in bulk. Even if it is only $4.99 for two dozen.

YES, I know eggs can be frozen. I am far too lazy for that though.

And honestly speaking… eating pasteurized egg whites is cleaner than dealing with whole eggs.

I’m extremely squeamish with handling slimy things, which means it’s difficult for me to handle raw meat, fish and eggs. Raw dough also has an ick factor because of the ingredients. I’m paranoid about parasites in pork, so I refuse t cook it myself.

I recently made biscuits with plain yogurt though… I suppose I should let my friend know tomorrow. I also plan on making a lot more of them.

They taste really good. And, having the extra protein isn’t bad, right?

Also packed ginger candy for tomorrow because I felt like vomiting earlier today…

I hate having sudden bouts of nausea. I actually used one of those experiences in one of my chapters. Wasn’t able to move and curled up on my friend’s floor.

Wasn’t even able to tell her I felt like vomiting… which would have been disastrous. She has very nice, plush and white carpet.

And since I’m in an “awake” mood right now… till the caffeine wears off, I’ll share that snippet here.

This is from Chapter 11 of NtC. Some of this’ll change with the new edits that I still need to plan out…

—

In spite of the serene scene, her features were anything but. As soon as she woke, the most overwhelming wave of nausea had hit. It was the worst she’d experienced so far in her pregnancy.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to slowly roll into a more comfortable position in bed. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead, and she trembled. Opening her mouth, Jennifer couldn’t make much of a sound save a small whimper.

The sickness was so intense that she could barely catch her breath and felt lightheaded. That presented another problem as her bladder was demanding her full attention. Jen had to go urgently, but it was so hard to move.

Her stomach turbulently churned as she finally made it into a sitting position. Brown eyes widening, she heard the ominous gurgling coming from her middle. What? She grimaced. What is…

Wincing at the sudden wash of acid in her throat, Jen carefully rose to her feet and slowly made her way to the bathroom.

Peter found her in there an hour later, unable to get off the toilet. Her face and arms were slick with sweat. Her shirt was saturated in patches. Despite the bile that she was able to taste vividly, she hadn’t been able to empty her stomach at all.

“Jen?” Alarm was audible in his voice.

Responding slowly, Jennifer lifted her eyes to Peter, her gaze watery and blurred. He seemed to be moving far too fast for her.

Or was she moving too slow?

“What happened?” He asked, dropping down to a knee to look at her face. Her wan pallor scared him. If pea-green were a person… He thought grimacing. Jen looked very ill.

“Can’t… get up.” She forced out in answer.

His brows furrowing, Peter stood up. “Need the hospital?”

“N…No. Get up… back in bed.” Jennifer managed.

Her words were disjointed, but he was able to understand. I did promise that I would help her. That’s exactly what he was going to do. No matter how bad it was. He reached down to gently pull her to her feet.

“Pete…” She whimpered, shaking a little. She felt both hot and cold at the same time, feeling fresh perspiration beginning to coat her skin. “I… N-Need—” Her hands were grasping at his shirt.

“Don’t worry.” Peter whispered, holding her very close. He helped her clean up in the bathroom and slowly walked with her back to her room. Cautiously, he helped her sit down on the bed. “Stay here! Try to sit still.” He hurried to the other side of the bed and scooped up the trash can.

He then padded into the bathroom. After pulling the current bag out of the can, he lined it with two more from the small medicine cabinet over the sink.

Returning to her side, he set the trash can on the floor next to her and helped her recline in bed. “How sick did you get Jenny?” He was confused, having not heard a thing.

“Didn’t.” She grumbled, sounding testy. It felt much better to lie back in bed. Features creasing in discomfort as her innards continued to wage war on her, Jen felt a modicum of relief as Peter used both of their pillows to prop her up further.

“You didn’t?” Peter’s voice echoed how befuddled he felt. Reaching over, he carefully slid the waistband of her pajama shorts down. “Let’s take a bit of the pressure off.” He spoke softly, carefully pushing her shirt up enough to expose her abdomen.

“I feel horrible, Pete.” She whispered, uncertain which was worse – feeling so queasy… or the knowledge that she wasn’t sick enough to vomit.

“I understand Jenny.” He gently rubbed her right knee. “I’ll be right back.”

Unable to speak anymore, she exhaled carefully, her head lolling back against the mass of pillows. Fatigue sunk in heavily, and though Jen slept enough the night before, her eyes drifted closed. She fell fast asleep before Peter even made it back to the room.

—

I actually did fall asleep on the floor too, which helped.

~J. Lyst

Oh! And my dad sent me a picture of the moon. It looked like a fireball. I think he confused the streetlight with the moon, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.