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My name is Dorothy. I live in New York City and work for Metro newspapers. I'm not going to lie — I'm pretty famous with the people who read free daily newspapers on their commute into work and the four people who bought the book I co-wrote called "Dating Makes You Want to Die." This is where I'm going to write things when I feel like it. |
I really, really wanted to update more but it’s hard when I’m sleeping 12/13 hours a day on the weekend and at least 10 during the week. I think our baby boy is going through a growth spurt and it’s knocking me down for the count. Well, that, and living in New York City (it is not advisable to be a pregnant lady in New York City) and working full time and trying to knock out a writing project with two very talented writerly friends. It’s all very doable and all of the sleep I’m getting means I’m not tired but you can’t help but feel lazy when, on Friday, I went to prenatal yoga, came home, made myself a BLT, loved the dog a bit, watched an episode of Revenge and then decided to get a bit of reading in of a throw-away Jo Nesbo paperback when I then feel slept for five hours. I mean, deep, deep REM sleep. The kind of sleep insomniacs dream about. The kind of sleep that should only happen during the night, after a long day’s work. It’s hard not to feel guilty when I finally woke up and everything I wanted to do for the day — cleaning, getting Scout to the park for some exercise, writing — just didn’t get done. Nat always makes me feel better about it; he’s been so very helpful and, in fact, he’s cleaning the apartment now, but it’s hard not to be amazed/ashamed at that kind of sleeping. I’m not even hungover!
