It's tight in here, but there's room to grow. Squirming and kicking help as long as I keep my head down. Don't wanna go the breeched route, only four months left, roughly 120 days. Look who's counting, look who's waiting, look who's floating, look who's growing. Honestly, it's not bad in here.
She had the calamari last evening, makes my arms and legs dance, the sauce was a sweet marinara. Some white wine would've been nice, but she won't drink a drop. Said she's gonna drink an entire box when I'm out. Not sure what I'll eat on the outside, hope it's good, hope it's in stock. That cheeseburger she ate the other day was pure paradise.
One day I'll take her to lunch, me and her and that dude with the muffled voice. Not sure about him, seems obsessed with high gas prices. Can't quite make it out, but seems to blame a guy named Puck Moe. Who knows, who cares, I'm sleepy. See you on the outside.
