Ouch.

That's pretty much sums up the weekend. If I hurt like this at seven months pregnant, what is nine and ten going to do?

I spent a good deal of today in bed because that's where I hurt the least. I've got to figure this out -- I have an almost three-year-old to take care of, and that's a pretty physical job.

I tried to write a little while lying in bed, but the positioning is hard on the old back. Any suggestions? (I'm going to need them, particularly just after baby is born since I'll be recovering from surgery as well as having a kid.)

Instead of writing or reading fiction or doing most anything productive (well, Avadore and I played during his calmer moments and I had a cat snuggling with me, which is very nice indeed), I read Stephen King's On Writing. This is probably the fourth or fifth time I've read this book. The first time I read it was just after Avadore was born. I was holding him a good portion of the time (he loved to be held when he was a baby), so I read the audio version read by King himself. Pure entertainment, useful and informative. I've read it in hardcover since. It's just an enjoyable, easy read. I highly recommend it.

And now it's time for bed. Rice works tomorrow, and I've got to be in as tip-top condition as possible.