I’m writing for ten minutes longer than I usually do this morning, and I don’t want to hear any complaints from the peanut gallery. Following the doctor’s orders, I had sex with my wife two times last night, and she used her breast pumps for the first time for one hour. I’m not supposed to tell anybody that. It’s a midwife trick. We’re trying to induce labor. In two days, we’re going in, and Musette will be induced. She is having contractions every five minutes. She can barely feel them. They’re less intense than period cramps. Those could continue for a couple of days, said our stress test technician, and our midwife’s motto is no pain, no gain.

My cousin is moving to Nevada. Henderson to be exact. I know that I haven’t mentioned him much if it all here, but he’s got a gambling problem. My dad has paid him 15,000 dollars in withheld wages. His girlfriend is a meth addict, and she pulled a gun on my cousin. She’d been over to my parents’ house not too long ago. My sister is going to be living there with her baby and two cats, not to mention her husband who wants to be in my position more than anything, sleeping in my old room, the one that was turned into a guest room. They’re asking what I want done with all of the books, the art, etc. I should hold an online auction. Make something of myself. Get this stuff into rightful hands. I’m not joking. Hit me up if you’re interested.

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