A series of loosely connected events

Ever since we got back from our weekend in Kentucky, my tailbone has been hurting. It's especially painful when I'm sitting on the bed nursing Nico, which is both literally and figuratively a pain in the ass. It came on pretty much overnight and with no apparent cause, and after a trip to the chiropractor on Friday did nothing to alleviate it, I had halfway convinced myself that I have cancer of the tailbone. I spent an embarrassingly long time thinking about how if I did have tailbone cancer and needed radiation, I'd want to ask the doctors if I had time to try for another baby before they zapped me. Dude, I don't know what's wrong with my brain. Anyway, I went back to the chiropractor yesterday and it seems a bit better, so maybe I'm okay. I decided after the ridiculous freakout that if it's still painful next Monday -- two weeks after it started -- I'll call the doctor and get a referral for an X-ray. I kind of might as well, seeing as Nico's birth pretty much blew my deductible and out-of-pocket out of the water for the year.

It really only hurt today when I was driving, which is great since I'm driving 65 miles round-trip each night this week to do a work thing at the county fair. The drive would otherwise be my favorite part of the whole ordeal, since sitting in the heat for three hours each night is not really my thing. I'm also not loving the disruption in my schedule as it relates to Nico. Usually I get off work at 5, pick him up from my parents' house by 5:30 and then we have until bedtime around 8:00 to hang out together. This week I don't get to pick him up until 8:00 and pretty much have to bring him home, give MB 15 minutes or so to hold him, and then take him straight upstairs for his bedtime routine. I do get to keep him a little later in the mornings, but mornings are more hectic by necessity so it's not like we can just chill out together. I miss him more than I expected, I'll admit. I never thought working three hours later would matter so much, but it's kind of sucking. Luckily I only have one more late night this week, and then I get to go back to my regular work schedule for a week before doing another week of late nights.

Sitting around at the booth at the fair has given me more time to keep slogging through The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. I'm not really loving it so far, and I'm nearly halfway done. I don't really know where things went off the rails, because I thought the core of the first book (i.e. everything but the Wennerstrom Affazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz) was enjoyable and liked the second one even more. But god, this one. So wordy. I am trying to give it the benefit of the doubt since 1. it was not originally written in English and 2. the author is dead. I want to believe that if Stieg Larsson hadn't died shortly after turning in the manuscripts, an editor would've convinced him to shave off some of the extra wordiness. I also think if I was from Sweden, I'd find stuff like "Martensson left home at 7:40 that morning. He got into his Volvo and drove towards the city but turned off to go across Stora Essingen and Grondal into Sodermalm. He drove down Hornsgatan and across to Bellmansgatan via Brannkyrkagatan. He turned left onto Tavastgatan at the Bishop's Arms pub and parked at the corner." informative rather than eye-glazingly boring.

Speaking of boring, I tried watching Bravo's new show, Work of Art, and I kind of hate it. (Also, I am okay with calling the Top Chef cast "cheftestants," but I heard a commercial with the word "art-testants" and, no. Stop trying to make that happen, Bravo.) Maybe because the kind of artists who want to be on reality TV are by necessity pretentious and over-pleased with themselves. I am contemplating deleting it from my DVR queue and moving on. God knows I have enough shit to watch, especially since I have developed a deep and late-blooming love for So You Think You Can Dance. I'm also just really not loving Ghost Hunters Academy (or, while I'm at it, Ghost Hunters International), despite trying to enjoy it. I don't know why I'm so hesitant to stop watching crappy shows. It's like I'm afraid they'll suddenly become good if I stop watching and then I'll miss out. Something's gotta give, at any rate, because my DVR is starting to resemble my Google reader.

I can't think of any clever way to wrap this up, so here's a great song from the album I'm listening to over and over and over again this week: