No, that's not fair. In all honesty, we both did our fair share of bugging each other. Any recollections I may have of unprovoked hostility on his part are, no doubt, simply a product of my own selective memory. Of that I'm sure.

Anyway, I've done enough whining about the weekend, both in my own head and to the notify list, to last quite a while, and I've grown rather sick of it myself. Suffice it to say that the laundry currently being washed and the trash that's in the process of being collected are among the only tasks which approached completion over the course of the entire long weekend. Did we grill out for Memorial Day, as we had semi-planned? Nope. Did we clean the apartment? Not really. Did I get any sewing done? Not a stitch. Did Eric get to the work he wanted to do on our gateway machine? Only in the last ten minutes. Yep, we're go-getters, all right.

We did get out to the bookstore, where I found copies of Johnny Gruelle's Raggedy Ann Stories and Raggedy Andy Stories for sale. I was reminded of these stories a few days ago by one of my favorite family of patrons; little Sarah and her mother were quite disappointed that we had no copies of these books, and I had to admit that I hadn't thought of them in years and years. Why, I'd forgotten all about Ann's little candy heart! Considering the piles of Raggedy Ann paraphernalia with which I was surrounded during my formative years, that's quite the statement. Little red-haired girls tend to attract Raggedy Ann dolls and decor like honey attracts flies, after all. No adult can seem to resist gifting said child with the famous rag doll, no matter how many she may already own.

So that was my weekend. No trip to Chicago, as was my first and most quickly shot down suggestion to Eric. No jaunt to Ann Arbor. Not even a day at Cedar Point. There was quite a bit of sleeping late. You'd think I'd feel rejuvenated, at least, but I actually feel even more tired than before I started.

I haven't said word one to anybody in my family, other than Eric, about this. After all, we didn't discuss the fact that we were trying to have a baby until Eric accidentally spilled the beans; I'm certainly not going to bring up the fact that we may have to seek medical help until we have solid information, and then probably not unless somebody directly asks the question. I'm not big on letting people see my weaknesses, and my own struggles to become a mother definitely qualify as an Achilles' Heel, to my way of thinking.

Speaking of struggles, we've heard no word from Linda yet about the baby. When we got back from lunch today, though, there were two messages on our answering machine - one from Bryan and one from his mother. I hope to God that they were simply calling to see what we were doing for Memorial Day, and not to deliver bad news.

I think I need to go for a walk. If only I had the drive to get up and do it! It almost feels as though there's a fog surrounding my mind and my limbs, and my words aren't my own; when I speak, I'm not really putting any effort into choosing my words. I feel only skin deep at the moment, incapable of deep emotion. If I sound vague, know that this isn't my goal.

I feel incapable of doing more than collapsing on the sofa and napping away yet another day. Sadly, our sofa has decided that almost thirty years of service is all that it's willing to give, and the middle is giving out; a person seated on the center cushion is almost sitting on the floor itself. We did attempt to go sofa shopping this weekend, but that ended as poorly as our other tasks; we came to the conclusion that other debt will have to vanish before we can even consider purchasing another piece of furniture. Even then, Eric stated, new sofas would simply put more distance between us and a house.

I can't be bothered to feel the futility contained in that last sentiment.